Prisoners
by FadedPromise
Summary: AU: Lucien and Jean meet much earlier than in canon when both are prisoners of the Japanese. Warnings for violent content.
1. Chapter 1

**_Author's Note: I've been so impressed by all the incredible AUs posted here lately that this is my humble attempt at one of my own. Many of Jean's experiences are based on a book called "Three Came Home" by Agnes Newton Keith, which I read many years ago. I'm breaking my own rules by posting this before it's finished because I'd like some feedback as to whether it's worth continuing._**

16 January, 1942

Jean Beazley opened up the morning newspaper. She had never used to read the paper while she ate breakfast, but the state of the world, and most particularly the inexorable advance of the Japanese military, had changed a lot of routines across the area surrounding her home in Sandakan on the island of Borneo.

In the six months since her husband Christopher had been killed in a training accident by an eager but careless recruit, Jean had considered many times that she ought to take her boys and leave, get out of the path of the oncoming menace, but the Australian consul, Patrick Tyneman, insisted they would be safe, the Brits would never allow Borneo to fall to the Japanese. It was too important to British economic interests. And, in truth, if she did leave, where would she go? There was little for her back in Australia, with her parents long gone, and her sister's family struggling to make ends meet. There was the farm in Ballarat that Christopher's parents had left to them, but what did she know about farming? The boys were too young to be of any help, and she couldn't afford to hire anyone to farm it for her.

No, she was pretty much stuck in Borneo. Patrick had promised she could remain in the tiny house in the diplomatic compound as long as she needed. Christopher had been highly regarded in his position as head of the consulate security detail, so Patrick felt it was the least he could do for the man's family. And with the work she took in as a seamstress, she made just enough to keep her small family fed and clothed.

She glanced over at her boys as they ate their breakfast. Christopher Jr. was almost seven years old now, while Jack had just turned four. Several of their playmates had already been sent back home as their parents thought it safer. Jean would surely have done so as well, if there was anyone she could send them to.

Patrick's wife Susan had wanted to pack their teenaged son off to Australia, but young Edward had insisted on staying. He said he'd "show the Japs a thing or two" if they tried to invade Borneo. Patrick only shook his head while Susan wrung her hands in dismay. At least they had a choice, Jean thought.

As she read about the inevitable approach of the enemy, she decided that she had better be as prepared as she could be, just in case. She would pack bags for herself and the boys, what they would need if the worst happened and they became internees of the Japanese. Despite what Patrick said, it couldn't hurt to be ready.

After washing up from the meal, she sent the boys out to play in the garden while she sat down to make a list. She had no idea of what would be allowed, so she decided to pack all the most necessary items in one case, keeping the weight manageable should she have to carry it herself for any distance. Clothes, first aid and medical supplies, powdered milk for the boys. She made a mental note to purchase some vitamins if she could still find them at the chemist's.

She gathered together all the money she had, along with the few pieces of jewellery. She would need to conceal them somehow. Then it came to her: Jack's teddy bear would make a perfect hiding place. She picked at the stitches that held its arm on, removed a bit of the stuffing from the back and replaced it with the valuables, then returned some of the stuffing and sewed the arm back on. Perfect, and undetectable. The teddy bear was a necessity in any case, since Jack refused to go to sleep without it. She would prepare small bags for each of the boys to carry with additional clothes for them and a few lightweight playthings, most importantly the teddy bear.

With her plan in mind, she set to work implementing it. Better too soon than too late.

* * *

The shelling had been going on for weeks now. As a result, everyone in Singapore was on edge from the harrowing days and sleepless nights. As he was every morning, Captain Lucien Blake was grateful he had sent his small daughter Li off on the last passenger ship out of the port. He only wished he had been able to convince Mei Lin to take the child away herself. Instead, his wife had been one of the first killed by bombs when the roof had collapsed on the market where she was shopping. But by now almost every resident trapped in Singapore had lost someone to the shelling.

With the death of his wife, Lucien had closed up the house and moved into the officers' quarters on base. He had posted a crate of small valuables to his father for safekeeping. Although he had not officially corresponded with the man for many years, he hoped the package would be accepted and stowed away for him. Surely the war hanging over all their heads would have softened the old man's heart at least a little.

The housekeeper, nanny, and gardener were given severance pay and released from service so they could be with their families. He suspected the Japanese would do them no favours if they were known to work in the British enclave.

Lucien snugged his tie into place, gave himself a glance in the mirror to be sure his uniform was impeccable, then headed off for the day. As he entered the door of HQ, he was met by a very young corporal who told him General Bennett wanted a word with him. Lucien lifted an eyebrow in surprise, but thanked the young man and turned toward the general's office.

Major-General Gordon Bennett commanded the Australian 8th division and was a veteran officer, having been highly decorated for his service in the Great War. Nonetheless, Lucien had little faith in the man as a leader in battle.

He composed himself to keep his feelings for the man at bay before following the order to "Enter". Standing at attention, he held his salute until Bennett finally looked up at him and returned it.

"Yes, yes, Blake, have a seat."

"Sir," he acknowledged, sitting where the general indicated.

"Yes, well, I've just received my orders for the defense of this bloody peninsula," Bennett announced. "We Australians are to hold the western sector, including the airfield."

"Yes, sir."

"I want you to accompany the 22nd Infantry Brigade which will be defending the northwest corner - jungles and mangroves and the lot. You're to report directly to Brigadier Taylor."

"Yes, sir."

"And Blake, need I remind you you're a doctor? Despite your training, I expect you to be a non-combatant, is that understood?"

All of Lucien's instincts screamed at him to protest. When the Japanese invaded, they would all be fighting for their lives. But Bennett's menacing glare made it clear that any disagreement would fall on deaf ears. Instead, he gritted his teeth and managed, "Understood, sir."

He suspected that before this was over, his agreement or disagreement would be of little consequence anyway.

"Right, then, Captain, you're dismissed."

Lucien stood and saluted again before exiting the office. War experience or no, he couldn't help but wonder if those running the show had any idea what they were about to face. Surely the ease with which the Japanese army had rolled through China must have made it clear they were an implacable foe. He hoped Brigadier Taylor might have a more practical view.

* * *

18 January, 1942

The ringing of the church bells woke Jean. Despite it being barely light outside, she was convinced they had all overslept and would be late for church. Pulling herself together quickly, she went towards the boys' bedroom to wake them, but a hurried pounding on the front door made her change direction.

She fastened the tie to her robe more securely and went to greet the early caller. It was her neighbor, Evelyn Touhey. "Good morning, Evelyn, I..."

"No, it's not a good morning, Jean," the older woman informed her. "The Japanese have landed in Sandakan. Mister Tyneman has requested that we all be present when he meets with them in the town center at 9:00. Sunday mass has been postponed until 11:00 in light of this."

"Oh!" said Jean. Her instincts had been correct. "Yes, we'll be there. Thank you for letting me know." She wanted to hear first hand what the Japanese intended for them, rather than relying on all the rumours that were certain to spread like wildfire.

Her first thought was to find a sitter for the boys, but then she decided she would keep them with her. From this point on they needed to be a single unit - it was their only chance to get through whatever lay ahead.

Christopher was already up and getting dressed, but Jack was not a fan of mornings. She tried to stay calm as she coaxed him out of bed and into his Sunday clothes. In her mind she was running through all the things she needed to do before they headed out to the meeting. Should they bring their belongings with them or would they be allowed to return home to prepare? She suspected the latter, but could she afford to take a chance?

She decided she would risk it. Why make the boys carry their bags all the way to the town center and back, when most likely there would be far more arduous journeys ahead? Life was about to get very difficult for them so she needed to ease their path wherever she could.

She dressed as she normally would for Sunday mass. Assuming the Japanese allowed it to proceed, she thought the tiny church would be full when it began. Jean herself was determined to look her best. They would all change into more comfortable clothing afterwards.

She allowed Jack to take the teddy bear with him as they headed out for the meeting. Christopher being very responsible despite his young age, Jean had told him about the secret in the bear's stuffing so that he could help her be sure the toy stayed in Jack's possession.

They arrived at the town center fifteen minutes early but the building was already filling up. Jean managed to find two seats together, pulling Jack onto her lap. She prayed he would behave himself. She had a feeling it might not be a good thing to be singled out for attention.

A small, trim Japanese officer (Jean couldn't identify the rank insignia) stepped up to address them. His command of the English language was sufficient, if heavily accented. She found herself leaning forward, as though that would make him easier to understand.

"I am Colonel Suga. You are now subject of the Imperial Japanese army," he began, as if they didn't already know that. "This city will house the officers of that army. You will be given new accommodations. One for men, one for women. Tomorrow morning trucks will be sent to each house to pick up the occupants. You will be allowed to take whatever you want as long as you can carry it."

He looked over the assemblage with his eyes narrowed as though wondering who would be making trouble.

"Until that time you will be expected to go home and pack. There will be no congregating together."

Father Emery stood up. "Colonel, today is Sunday. Surely you will allow me to conduct Sunday mass for my parishioners."

"No congregating," Suga repeated. "You can say mass, but they cannot attend."

The priest was about to protest further but a burly soldier stepped toward him menacingly, and Father Emery reluctantly resumed his seat.

Suga looked satisfied. "Are there other questions?" he asked.

Hesitantly Jean raised her hand and stood up, still holding Jack. "Sir, in these new accommodations, will children be allowed to remain with their mothers?"

Smiling at her, the colonel's voice took on a much friendlier tone. "Of course children remain with their mothers," he assured her. "We are not monsters. I have three children of my own. I do not allow anyone to mistreat children."

"Thank you, Colonel," she said, breathing a little easier. As long as her boys could stay with her, she would find a way to get them all through this.

A few others asked questions about the nature of their new accommodations and their location, but the colonel only assured them they would be adequate and offered little more information about them.

A well-to-do British woman that Jean didn't recognize asked about the shops there, at which point Suga dismissed her and then the entire assemblage. With a sigh, Jean stood up and set Jack on his feet, making sure his bear was safely in tow. She took both boys by the hand and started for the door, but had only gone a few steps when the burly soldier who had threatened Father Emery stopped her progress.

"Colonel, you," he said.

Jean frowned, her heart racing. "The colonel wants to see me?" she clarified.

The soldier merely pointed at her then toward the colonel, who was looking at her and nodding.

Knowing she had little choice, she started in that direction, gripping the boys' hands just a little tighter. Her mouth was suddenly so dry she wasn't sure she could speak.

When she stood in front of him and the soldier had moved away, Suga spoke first. "You are Mrs..."

She swallowed, but her voice was still tremulous. "Mrs. Beazley," she managed.

"Yes, Mrs. Beazley and her two beautiful sons, I presume."

"That's right," she said nodding.

"I like you, Mrs. Beazley, a mother who looks out for her children. If you need anything for your children, you come to see me, yes?"

Jean instinctively knew she would only take him up on that offer if she was desperate. There might be unsavory strings attached. Nevertheless, she remained polite. "Thank you, Colonel, that's very kind of you."

"I am a father. I love little children. You go now."

With alacrity, she guided the boys outside and headed for home. There was much to do.

* * *

Lucien decided that Brigadier Harold Taylor was an improvement over General Bennett, if only because he did not think quite so much of himself. And unlike Bennett, he seemed to realize just how serious their predicament was. He was trying his best to have the newest recruits, of which there were too many in the 22nd Infantry Brigade, brought up to snuff as quickly as possible.

When Lucien had reported to him the previous day, Taylor had told him his primary duty would be as a doctor, but since he had more military training and experience than the majority of the men, he shouldn't hesitate to take a more direct role in the fighting if it became necessary. They exchanged stories of atrocities they had heard from those fighting the Japanese in the northern part of the peninsula, and they agreed that his status as a doctor would do nothing to ensure his survival anyway.

The British Commander, General Percival, was convinced the invasion would be coming from the south or possibly the northeast, which is where he concentrated the more experienced British infantry and artillery forces, leaving the Australian and Indian divisions to guard the west side of the island. There were only a handful of aircraft left on Singapore to provide cover and reconnaissance for the ground troops. Many airplanes had been destroyed by bombings or prior air duels, and the bulk of the rest had been relocated to assist in the fighting in the British East Indies. It had been deemed that Singapore with its heavy fortifications along the most accessible landing area on the south coast was nearly impregnable. Brigadier Taylor (and Lucien) were not so sure.

The brigade was busy establishing their base of operations near where the jungle began. Trenches were being dug, sandbags piled high, machine gun nests fortified. Despite his rank and standing as a physician, Lucien was in the trenches beside the others, wielding a shovel and heaving sandbags into position. Having shed his uniform blouse with its rank insignia, only his trousers identified him as an officer.

The young corporal beside him handed Lucien another bag of sand, and he heaved it up to the top of the newly-formed embankment. He paused a moment to take out his handkerchief and wipe his brow, while the corporal used his own forearm to rub away the sweat.

"Excuse me, sir," said the baby-faced young man.

"Yes, corporal?"

"It's just that you're the only officer I see here in the trenches."

Lucien smiled at him. "So either I'm the expendable one or I'm the one who most wants to survive, is that it?"

"Or...". The boy hesitated. "Or you know something the others don't know, sir."

"Such as?"

"Maybe you think this is where the invasion is going to be."

"I'm not discounting that possibility," Lucien admitted.

"Sir, do you think we can hold Singapore if they do come?"

It was Lucien's turn to hesitate. This young man needed to know the seriousness of the situation, but telling him the whole of what Lucien suspected would happen might frighten him too much to act.

"They'll come," he said finally. "They're already moving down the peninsula. It's just a matter of time before they reach Singapore. Can we hold them? That I don't know. The Poms are convinced we're impregnable here. But it's going to take all of us working together when the invasion starts."

"Yes, sir." He stood straighter, ready to resume work.

Lucien took the next sandbag from him. He grunted as he heaved it into place. As he reached for the next one, he said, "What's your name, son?"

"I'm Mason, sir. Corporal Billy Mason."

"Captain Lucien Blake. A pleasure to work with you, Corporal Mason."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

* * *

19 January, 1942

Jean had been awake most of the night, reviewing the items she had packed to see if she'd forgotten anything, and trying to imagine what the future held for her and the boys. She had no illusions that it would be anything like they were used to. Like everyone else, she had heard the rumors about Japanese prison camps, although technically as non-combatants they would be internees, not prisoners. She wondered if their captors would recognize the difference.

As the sun peeked over the horizon, she abandoned any further pretense of sleep. She slid out of bed, then quickly washed and dressed. Not knowing what time they would be taken away, she started breakfast before rousing the boys. She could always turn it into sarnies that could be taken with them if necessary.

As usual, Christopher was already getting dressed when she entered their bedroom. She had put out their sturdiest clothes the night before, bearing in mind that they might have to last a long time. That reminded her that she should pack a sewing kit. The boys were growing at an alarming rate, and surely their clothes would need altering if the captivity lasted much more than a few weeks. And on impulse she decided to throw in Christopher Sr.'s army-issued survival manual and a few packets of quinine.

With the usual struggle, she managed to get Jack up and into his clothes. His willfulness concerned her deeply. She couldn't imagine what might happen if he acted in that manner when a Japanese soldier told him to do something. She prayed that Colonel Suga had been truthful when he said he didn't allow his men to mistreat children. Nevertheless, she needed to have a talk with Jack.

At the breakfast table she had no appetite, but she forced herself to eat anyway. She needed to set an example for the boys, and she suspected this might be the last familiar meal they would have for a good long while. She had heard the Japanese ate a lot of rice and fish, but she had no idea what else. Would she even recognize the food?

The boys were both quiet, Christopher because he understood something of the gravity of the situation facing them, Jack most likely because of the palpable tension all around him.

Christopher ate with the same solemn deliberation with which he did most things since his father's death. When he was finished, he put down his fork, looked up, and said, "Mum?"

Jean knew what he was asking. She placed her teacup carefully in her saucer before speaking. "Soon the Japanese soldiers will arrive with a large lorry," she began, looking from one boy to the other. "We will have to take our things and go with them. This won't be our home any more."

"Where will we go?" asked Christopher.

"I'm afraid I don't know. We'll have to go wherever they take us."

"Mum, I don't want to go. I like our house," said Jack.

"I know, sweetheart, but we don't have any choice. These soldiers will have guns, but as long as we do what they say we'll be all right."

"We'll still live with you, won't we?" Christopher's eyes were wide with apprehension.

"Of course we'll all be together," Jean was quick to assure him. She couldn't help but think of the other women who were explaining to their children that their fathers would no longer be with them. But unlike her children, theirs could hold onto the hope of being reunited in the future.

"Can I take Teddy?" asked Jack, his bottom lip quivering.

"Yes, you can, but you must hold onto him very tight. If he should get lost along the way, we won't be able to get him back, understood?"

The boy nodded solemnly. "Teddy is my best friend," he announced. "I won't let him get lost."

"That's my boy," said Jean. She stood up, intending to start the washing up, then sat down again. If the Japanese were going to commandeer her house, they could bloody well do the washing up. She would spend these last moments of peace with her boys.

It didn't last long. She could hear the lorry as it pulled up to Evelyn's house two doors down. Trying to remain calm, she led the boys to the tiny entryway where she had stacked the belongings they would take with them. Christopher and Jack each had a rucksack which she helped them slip onto their backs. She had a rucksack for herself, as well as another large case she would carry. She wanted one hand free to hold Jack's hand, and she trusted Christopher to hang onto one of the rucksack straps.

"We must stay together, no matter what," she said fiercely. "No matter what."

* * *

Lucien woke up sore: it had been a while since he'd done so much manual labor. It was some relief therefore when he was asked to use his medical skills for the morning. There were a number of men with minor injuries from the ongoing work, and it was imperative that all be in top form before the actual fighting began.

He treated sprains and blisters, for the most part, with the occasional cut or severe bruise. The line of patients was nearly completed when he heard a single gunshot, then a great deal of shouting. He emerged from his tent to see an older corporal holding his bloody hand up before him as a mate helped him toward where Lucien waited.

"What do have here?" he asked as he escorted the injured man to a seat and began to clear away some of the blood as gently as he could.

"Cleaning my revolver," the man said through gritted teeth.

Lucien was immediately skeptical. "I see. And you didn't think to be sure it was empty first?"

"Thought it was," the corporal mumbled, looking everywhere but at Lucien's face. "Must have been one in the chamber."

"Well, Corporal..."

"Baker. Norm Baker."

"Yes, Corporal Baker." Lucien spoke very quietly. "None of us wants the battle ahead, but we have no choice. And if you thought this injury was going to buy your ticket home, l'm sorry to tell you that there are no more ships heading home now. So not only are you going to have to face the Japanese army, you're going to have to do it with only nine fingers and a very sore hand."

Finally Baker looked at him, the fear plain in his eyes. He knew he could be shot for cowardice.

"I'm not going to report this to Command," Lucien told him. "But you'll have to live with what you did for the rest of your life, however long that might be. Now, let's get this bandaged up, shall we?"

* * *

20 January 1942

Jean rolled over, trying yet again to get comfortable on the thin straw pallet. She was exhausted after the events of the day before. Leaving her home behind, worrying about her boys, trying to protect them from seeing when Mr. Kinnison was beaten for not following orders quickly enough, the long trip while packed tightly together in the back of the lorry, the trek from the gates of the internment camp to the women's compound at the very rear while struggling under the weight of their belongings and carrying the worn-out Jack on her hip. Then, once they arrived, trying to arrange the area assigned to them for maximum convenience. At least they had a corner area, which allowed them a modicum of privacy. And her upbringing in a rural area made her accustomed to the primitive toilet facilities. She could just imagine Susan Tyneman's reaction.

With all that upheaval, she should have had no trouble sleeping, but she had been tossing and turning for most of the night. She had pulled their two pallets together so that Jack was tucked up against her. She saw that he was sucking his thumb again, something he had abandoned long ago. She couldn't admonish him for something that gave him comfort in this situation. Lord knew, she could use some comfort herself.

She turned to the other side to see Christopher's solemn eyes watching her. Smiling at him, she softly ran her fingers through his brown hair.

"Mum?" he whispered.

"It's all right, love," she told him, just as quietly. "Try to get some sleep, sweetheart."

"You, too, Mum," he responded, but dutifully closed his eyes.

The day had been spent reinforcing their fortifications and setting up gun emplacements. As he sat down for what passed for dinner, Lucien felt sore and weary. He longed for a hot shower or bath, but admitted to himself it would probably be some time before he enjoyed such a luxury again. It was going to be a long battle, and even if the Japanese were repelled, the destruction they would leave behind would likely be devastating.

He was just finishing a rather unappetizing plate of beans when a hand clapped him on the shoulder. He looked up to see Derek Alderton grinning down at him. "So where's the officers' mess?"

"Very funny, Lieutenant," said Lucien. "When did you get here, and why?"

"It's 'Captain' now," said Alderton, tapping the pair of silver bars on his shirt collet.

"So it is. Congratulations, _Captain Alderton._ "

"Thank you, Lucien. I just got here, as a matter of fact. Seems they're sending the bulk of the Australian forces over here." He leaned in close and lowered his voice. "Between you and me, I think they don't trust us as fighters."

"I suppose that's only fair, since we don't trust them as tacticians," Lucien replied in an equally soft tone.

Alderton laughed loudly. "It's nice to know you haven't lost your irreverence."

"Any news from HQ?"

"They're still convinced the main thrust of the assault will be from the south, through the harbour."

Lucien shook his head. "Of course they are."

"But you don't think so."

"The Japanese aircraft have been flying reconnaissance for weeks now. They know exactly where our main fortifications are. Why would they concentrate their forces there?"

"Because it's the easiest place to land."

"Not into the teeth of our big guns. They may try to land some craft there, but as a diversion. Their major thrust will be somewhere else, somewhere we're not expecting," Lucien insisted.

"Like here?"

"Possibly. I'm going to suggest to the Brigadier that we send out advanced scouts."

"Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt," Alderton drawled.

* * *

30 January 1942

The monotony of daily life at the camp quickly wore on Jean and the women like her who were used to days of work and care. It was Eve Neville who was the first to step forward and offer her services. She thought the children should be kept busy and said she would be willing to hold classes for them daily.

Eve's generous offer prompted several others to consider what they could do to make their little community run more comfortably. Jean decided she could use her gardening skills. They could certainly stand to see their diet supplemented, since what their captors provided left them all wanting. Using Christopher's survival manual she could identify which of the plants in the jungle around them would be useful and then cultivate them. She knew some had medicinal uses as well, and those might prove invaluable to them.

As more of the women began to offer their services, Susan Tyneman spoke up. "Ladies, we need to do this in an orderly fashion," she announced. "Now then, Miss Neville will be teaching the children, and Mrs. Beazley will tend a garden. Mrs. Connelly, what about you?"

"I can weave palm fronds into hats for all of us," Claire offered. "Especially those like Mrs. Beazley who will be spending time in the sun."

"That's a very good idea," said Jean. "Thank you."

Susan sniffed at the idea of wearing a homemade hat of palm but did not comment on the idea. "And you, Mrs. Turner?"

"I'd like to help with the children," said Dorothy. "Look after the ones too young for school."

"Yes, I suppose that would be helpful," said Susan.

Jean spoke up. "What about you, Susan? What skill will you be contributing?"

"Me?" Susan's hand went to the middle of her chest, totally taken aback at the thought of physical labor of any kind. "Well, my skills are more of the supervisory type. I thought I would..."

"Run things?" asked Eve. "We have plenty of Japanese guards to run things. We need practical contributions to make our life a little easier here, not someone else to order us around."

Susan opened and closed her mouth a few times, then tried to fade into the background. Jean finally took pity on her and turned attention in another direction. "Ruth Dempster, maybe you could help me with the gardening? If I can find all the plants I'm looking for there may be a fair bit of weeding to do."

"Of course I'll help," said Ruth.

And soon they had a veritable community organized.

* * *

Lucien had volunteered to take a shift leading the squad on the advance perimeter that had been set up to scout for the enemy. After seeing that everyone was alert and in the correct position, he found a spot on higher ground with a good view of the jungle in front of him. He settled in for the duration.

He was so focused on scanning the area in front of him that he almost missed the footsteps approaching him from behind. When he became aware, he spun quickly, sidearm at the ready, only to see Alderton walking toward him with a big grin on his face.

"Lucien," he cried.

"Keep your voice down!" Lucien whispered fiercely.

Alderton had always been impetuous; that was one of the reasons Lucien had been drawn to him - a kindred spirit. But that had been in a happier time, before his wife had died and his daughter had been sent away. The war had already cost him enough to sober his spirit. As yet Alderton had had no equivalent experience to make him more serious.

"The Japs aren't anywhere near here," Alderton scoffed, in a lower decibel range but still too loud for Lucien's liking.

"You sound very sure of that," Lucien noted quietly.

"I just came from HQ, remember?" Despite his certainty, Alderton's voice was now almost as soft as Lucien's. "They say the Japs aren't going to attack any time soon."

"The same 'they' who were sure Borneo would never fall?" Lucien queried wryly.

Alderton slowly shook his head. "Lucien, if you don't put your trust in HQ you'll never get anywhere in the Army."

"Yes, well, I think I'd rather stay alive than get promoted," Lucien said. "I'll trust my own instincts over HQ's."

Alderton was not swayed. "I'll prove it to you. Let's take a walk, out there." He pointed deeper into the mangroves. "I figure we can get ten miles out and still be back for the end of your shift, especially since we'll run into nothing more deadly than a snake or two."

"I have a job to do here," Lucien reminded him.

"A rather useless job, as you'll see if we go out there."

"And what if we should run into Japanese troops? What then, eh?"

Alderton smiled wolfishly. "Well, then, we'll take care of business, won't we?"

"Yes, and bring the lot of them down on us before we're fully dug in to defend."

"Lucien Blake, when did you get so timid?"

"I prefer to think of it as cautious. Careful." Lucien decided there was no use mentioning how much he'd already lost to this war.

"Don't go soft on me, Lucien," growled Alderton.

"And don't you be stupid, Derek. I intend to survive, and make sure you do as well."

"Oh, I'll survive. No need to worry about me."

* * *

15 February 1942

Jean looked over her small garden and nodded with satisfaction. Very soon she would be able to start harvesting. Letup and hairy passion fruit leaves would make for a lovely salad, something that would be a welcome change from their unrelenting diet of rice and seaweed in fish broth.

She had just crouched down to begin weeding when the shouting began. "Stop that!" she heard Eve Neville say sharply.

Brushing off her hands, she hurried inside where "school" was being held. She gasped as she saw the Tyneman boy leaning over Eve with his hand raised threateningly.

"Don't you dare," Jean warned him. He was only twelve years old but already the size of a full-grown man. She walked up to him, hands on her hips, fully prepared to face him down.

But she wasn't the only one who had heard the shouting. One of their guards, the one they called Sniffer because he was always snuffling and sniffling, came in brandishing his rifle. He pointed the weapon at Edward. "You come."

He grabbed the boy's arm and began to pull him towards the door.

"Where are you taking him?" Jean demanded. She didn't much care for the boy, but she had seen the punishment the guards meted out.

Sniffer pointed at Edward then in the direction of the men's compound. "Man, not child."

"No, he's only a child," Jean insisted. "He's only twelve."

"Man," Sniffer insisted. He dragged Edward out the door.

Someone must have alerted Susan, who came hurrying over to take Edward's other arm. "You can't take him," she cried. "He's my boy!"

The guard ignored her and continued on his path, Edward in tow.

Susan ran forward to step into their path. "I won't let you do this to my son," she insisted.

Sniffer stopped and aimed his gun at her. "Man," he said again, nodding at Edward, who was now crying.

When she didn't back away, he put his finger over the trigger of the gun, and from her position in the doorway, Jean had no doubt that he was prepared to shoot Susan. She rushed out to pull the other woman out of the way.

"Do you want Edward to see him kill you?" Jean cried. "Let him go, Susan. Patrick will look after him."

Susan wailed her despair, watching helplessly as Edward was dragged over to the men's camp. Jean knew the women as a whole would be better off with him gone, but that didn't mean she couldn't feel bad for Susan. She was thankful Christopher Jr. was slightly built and well-mannered. She couldn't bear to think of him being sent to the men's compound.

She sighed and moved Susan inside. "Let's make you a cuppa." Or what passes for it here, she thought.

* * *

Preparations had continued unabated, with most soldiers relying on benzedrine to keep working day and night beneath constant shelling. Finally, on the fourth day, the actual onslaught began at dawn. The perimeter scouts gave them only a few minutes advance notice, shouting and dragging the wounded into camp with them as they retreated. Lucien was immediately thrust into action as a doctor. He didn't even have time to strap on his sidearm, much less fire a weapon.

He quickly lost track of time, working with limited supplies, equipment and medics to assist him, but in the back of his mind he was aware that the weapons fire around him was growing closer and more intense.

He moved to yet another patient and grimaced to see it was young Corporal Mason, the one who had been working with him to build up their fortifications just a few days before. Now he was lying there screaming in pain with most of his lower left leg blown away.

Lucien had just given him a shot of morphine for the pain when Derek Alderton burst into the tent. "You were right, Lucien," Alderton admitted. "The whole damned Japanese army is coming down on us. Taylor has requested permission for us to fall back but General Bennett refused. It's damn Gallipoli all over again."

"Don't you have something better to do?" Lucien asked him, a definite anger in his voice. He turned back to his patient, trying to stop the bleeding from a torn femoral artery.

"We could get out of here, just you and me, Lucien," Alderton whispered fiercely. "I know a way..."

"Then go," sighed Lucien. "Let me get on with it." And he put all his attention on the young corporal before him.

Mason was slowly becoming aware of his surroundings as the morphine reduced his pain. He recognized Lucien and managed to catch hold of his shirtsleeve. Lucien leaned over him. "Just hang on, Corporal," he urged.

"No, Captain. Don't let the Japs take me, sir. Not like this. I'll never survive in a prison camp like this. I don't want to die a slow death that way. If they come, give me a shot of something to end it quick. Please, Captain!"

Before Lucien could formulate a response, the firing was right outside the medical tent and a moment later he was looking down the barrel of a Japanese rifle.

"Out!" soldier ordered.

"I'm a doctor," said Lucien. "These are my patients. Umm, _isha,_ " he said, pointing at himself.

"No walk, no live," barked the soldier, and to Lucien's horror, the man shot Mason in the head. A new reality had begun.

* * *

16 February 1942

Jean was satisfied. Her little garden was coming along nicely. It was regularly providing greens and fruit to supplement their communal diet, and so far no one in the women's camp had become seriously ill despite the limited amount of food their captors provided. She was considering ways she might be able to expand the crops, both in quantity and variety.

She went inside to discuss her ideas with Ruth Dempster, and they had just decided what crops they could add when three of the guards entered.

The one they called Bruiser spoke loudly. "All women and children must pack immediately." His English was good, if heavily accented. "In two hours we move to new camp."

There was a howl of collective outrage. They had just gotten things organized here so that they could survive; now they would have to start over again.

"Where are we going?" Susan Tyneman demanded.

"You must pack. Two hours," Bruiser warned. He and the others walked out, heading to the men's camp.

"Oh, what are we going to do?" wailed Susan, wringing her hands.

"What choice do we have?" said Jean. "We're going to pack up and take as much as we can. Now let's get busy."

As quickly as she could, she packed all of their belongings. Then she walked into her garden and began to harvest everything edible and take cuttings and seeds, anything that could be packed up. She might have to start over, but it wouldn't be from scratch.

Ruth came out to help her. Together they wrapped the cuttings in damp cloths, then put them all into a rucksack. Ruth offered to carry it, knowing Jean would have her hands full with her own belongings, those of the boys, plus the two lads themselves to manage. They just had to hope the new camp would have a suitable area for planting.

* * *

Lucien was still in a state of shock at seeing his patients executed in front of him. By rote he had packed up all the medical supplies and equipment he could fit in his rucksack, leaving room only for spare socks and undershorts for himself. His captors had confiscated the scalpels but allowed the rest. Now he plodded along with all the other prisoners, heading north through the swamps to God-knew-where. His pack was extremely heavy but he was almost heedless of the weight. From time to time Derek would appear at his side but Lucien was barely aware of his presence, lost in his own head.

They were given nothing to eat, and anyone who seemed to be lagging behind was threatened to be killed. A sergeant, Henry Denton, noticed Lucien's condition and reminded him to drink from his canteen every hour or so.

When night began to fall, the march was halted only because the Japanese were afraid of prisoners slipping away under cover of darkness. They were moved into a tight group with not enough room for anyone to stretch out. The prisoners only managed to sleep by leaning against each other. At daybreak they were ordered up onto their feet and the northward march resumed.

* * *

17 February 1942

They had traveled by boat for most of the night. Young Christopher and Jack had been violently seasick for much of the trip, and Jean herself had felt queasy for the latter part of it. All of the prisoners were glad to see the voyage end just before dawn, even if it culminated in a walk of several miles to the camp itself.

The new compound at Changi Prison was huge, comprised of separate camps for British POWs, Australian ones, Indian soldiers, male civilian internees, and the women. There was a large open area in the center, and high stockade-type fences between the camps. Tall watchtowers ringed the outer fence. The commandant's office and the guards' barracks were set off from the camps, but close enough to reach any of them upon a moment's notice.

As they entered the women's camp building, there were audible groans. It was a big, empty building with visible cracks in the walls and a dirt floor. Not even pallets for bedding or any kind of seating. Only a few scattered stones that had probably formed a fire pit for cooking. Jean took just a moment to lament what they had left behind before she turned her attention to how she could make their new circumstances bearable, especially for the boys.

"Right," she said. "First order of business is bedding. Mrs. Connelly, do you think you could show us all how to weave palm fronds so we can make sleeping mats? It may not be very comfortable but at least it will get us off the bare ground."

"Yes, of course," said Claire. "I suppose we could line them with spare clothing to cushion them a little."

"Maybe the children can go outside and start collecting fronds," Jean suggested, "while we unpack and arrange a cooking area."

"Claire and I can oversee the children, show them what we need and make sure they stay away from the fence," Eve Neville offered.

"That's an excellent idea," said Jean, and the women set to work.

* * *

By the end of their second full day of nonstop marching on empty stomachs, many of the Australian POWs were close to collapse. Only the certainty that falling behind meant execution kept them going. As the men around him grew weaker, Lucien began to come out of his lethargy and take notice of their plight. Rain overnight had allowed them to replenish their water supplies, so he regularly encouraged them to drink. When they trudged through an area of wild passion fruit vines, he pointed out the ripe orange ones, and the soldiers marching on that side managed to pick quite a few of them surreptitiously, enough for each man to have one, with the rest secreted away for later.

More men began to falter, only managing to keep going with the assistance of their mates. Lucien noted that Corporal Baker was practically being dragged by a burly sergeant. He was sure Baker was now regretting that he had shot his finger off. The pain and blood loss had to be making this nightmarish journey even more hellish.

The prisoners were just trying to hold on until their guards called a halt for the night. One foot in front of the other; ignore the gnawing hunger pains and the aching legs and feet; urge the sun to set more quickly.

Lucien was trying to distract himself by watching those around him to identify the ones in most distress. Baker, of course. Private Morrison, the oldest of them by several years. His musings were interrupted by a cry and then a curse from one of the Japanese soldiers. The one in charge ordered everyone to stop. The man who had cried out sank to the ground, clutching at his ankle.

The leader glanced at his injured man, then barked, " _Isha!"_

Lucien was immediately in a quandary. As a doctor he was compelled to treat those in need, but as a soldier, could he aid the enemy? He saw his fellow soldiers turn toward him, waiting to see what he would do. Alderton, in particular, stared intently at him. Lucien suspected the injury was nothing more than an ankle sprain so it would hardly impact the war effort, but it might well affect the morale of the men.

Suddenly the choice was removed entirely. The head guard pointed his rifle directly at Private Morrison, and the implication was clear. If Lucien did not comply immediately, prisoners would be killed until he did.

He took a deep breath and handed his pack to Henry Denton. He would assist the injured man, but he would not use any of the precious medical supplies on him. Those were reserved for prisoners.

Stepping forward, he went to examine the injury. As expected, it was a sprained ankle. He pantomimed wrapping it, indicating he needed a bandage. He actually knew more than a smattering of the Japanese language but preferred that his captors were not aware of that.

He was handed a wrap and used it to encase the injury, then stood up. He indicated that the man needed to rest, hoping that would mean a stop for the day. It did. The prisoners were herded into a tight circle again. They were not supposed to talk, but Lucien managed to ascertain who was doing most poorly and offer advice to help them. Baker seemed to have the worst of it, and although Lucien had little sympathy for his self-inflicted wound, he didn't want to see him executed for it. He slipped him some paracetamol to help him get some sleep at least.

Satisfied that he had done the best he could under the circumstances, he leaned against the man behind him and tried to sleep himself.

* * *

18 February 1942

After the first day in their new "home" and seeing the small rations that were supposed to sustain them, there was no shortage of volunteers to help Jean reestablish her garden. She and Ruth showed them how to till the soil, making it ready for replanting the shoots and cuttings they had managed to salvage. The dirt was rich, and Jean was hopeful that the frequent showers would provide sufficient water to encourage growth. On a whim she rescued some of the wild flowers that were being dug up. She would plant them along the far border of the garden, thinking they could all do with a little brightness in the days ahead.

She set to work on the plants they had salvaged, working carefully to make sure each one was settled firmly in the soil. She was nearly done when the boys came out to see her.

"Mum, I'm hungry," Jack moaned.

"I know, sweetheart," she said softly, brushing off her hands and reaching for him. "How about a piece of fruit?" She reached into the bag for one.

"No!" he said firmly, swatting it out of her hand. "I want a banana. Or a orange."

"We don't have any bananas or oranges," Jean told him. "It's the passion fruit or nothing, young man."

In a fit, Jack threw his teddy bear as far as he could. Jean gasped as it fell right at the feet of Bruiser the guard.

She froze for a moment, thinking how to get it back. Besides the valuables hidden inside that might be crucial to their survival in the future, Jack needed that bear as a link to normality.

The boy must have immediately regretted his action. He walked up to the guard and stared defiantly at him as he grabbed the stuffed toy. Before Jean could pull him back, Jack glared at Bruiser and shouted, "I don't like you. You're a bad man!"

Swiftly the Japanese soldier backhanded him in the face. Jean scooped her son into her arms, trying to ignore the guard and her own overwhelming fear. Jack howled in pain as she held him to her breast protectively. Her heart was racing as she grabbed Christopher's hand and hurried inside, trying to hear if the guard was following her.

Eve Neville and Dorothy Turner rushed over to her. Jean glanced over her shoulder, but there was no sign of Bruiser. She released Christopher's hand to check on Jack. The older boy darted out the door, but before Jean could go after him, he had returned with the teddy bear that Jack had dropped. "That man is gone, Mum," he assured her.

She pulled Christopher in for a quick hug before turning her attention to Jack, who was still crying and holding his hand up to his jaw, where the red mark stood out starkly. She wished she had some ice to reduce the swelling but then dismissed the wish as ridiculous. She might as well wish for a doctor to look at him, there was just as much chance of that coming true. She tried to think what she had in her tiny store of first aid supplies that might help the child.

Her musing was interrupted when Evelyn Touhey came hurrying in. "There's a new troop of POWs arriving," she announced, "and they're Australian."

"Can we see?" Christopher asked.

Jean thought it might distract Jack, and she did want to see if there might be anyone she knew, although she prayed there wasn't. "What do you think, Jack?" she asked. 'Do you want to see the soldiers?"

He nodded through his tears, still crying. Jean swept him up onto one hip and took Christopher's hand as they went outside. She glanced around to make sure Bruiser wasn't near, but he was off on the far side of the center parade ground, well away from the women's camp.

As she watched the exhausted soldiers shuffle past, Jean thought that at least her Christopher had been spared this. Nevertheless, she peered into each face she could see, looking for any of the men who had trained or served with her husband, or if there were any Ballarat boys she knew from back home. Not a one that she recognized. But one man caught her eye. A captain, tall, well-built, a head of blond curls, his strong arms practically dragging an even larger captain who appeared to be in worse shape than the rest, his tunic covered in blood.

At that moment Jack had spotted Bruiser across the way - he let out a scream and buried his face against her shoulder. Jean bent to kiss him and whisper meaningless reassurances. When she looked up again, the blond captain was looking at her, his startlingly blue eyes catching her gaze. Jack's cry must have caught his attention. She smiled softly at him as she again kissed the top of Jack's head. The soldier looked a question at her, nodding towards Jack, perhaps wondering if he was all right. Not sure herself, she shrugged slightly, and held the boy more tightly. The blond man gave her a soft smile of understanding. Was he a father, too, she wondered.

Then he was past her. She followed him with her eyes as they moved on into the Australian POW camp. As he entered the building, he glanced back over his shoulder, but he was too far away for Jean to tell if he was looking at her.

With nothing further to see, Jean took her boys back inside, but she couldn't help but wonder about the man who was in dire straits himself but still felt sympathy for a mother with a child in distress.

* * *

Dawn was approaching and soon the guards would order them to get on their feet to start marching once again. Lucien knew they would begin losing men today. The lack of food was making them all weak; they needed some incentive to keep going.

It was Derek Alderton that provided the incentive, although hardly intending that. He pointed into the jungle at a plant with orange plum-like fruit hanging from it. "Keranji. Tamarind plums," he whispered hoarsely, and before Lucien could stop him he darted off to pick some.

The sudden movement roused the guards who were still dozing. One of them shouted at him, but Derek paid no heed, grabbing as many plums as he could reach. Then, laughing, he started back towards the group.

As he reached them, though, the guard stabbed him with his bayoneted rifle directly in the abdomen. Derek cried out and slumped into the dirt.

Lucien rushed to catch him, ignoring the guard who threatened to do the same to him. Gently he edged the bloody tunic aside to look at the wound. There was a gaping hole, long but not particularly deep. Lucien had to hope no internal organs had been compromised - if they had been, peritonitis was a certainty, rather than just the probability it was otherwise.

Knowing he had to work quickly as the guards would soon be ordering them all to move, he grabbed a suturing needle and line from his pack and stitched it rapidly, looking only to close it as tightly and rapidly as he could. Cosmetic niceties were not an option.

Satisfied that the wound was no longer bleeding, he covered it with a sterile pad, taping it in place. Derek would be in tremendous pain when he regained consciousness. They would worry about that if and when it happened.

He had just finished doing what he could when the guards ordered everyone on their feet. The guard who had stabbed Derek approached, looking to finish the job, but Lucien stepped between them and hoisted the grievously wounded man to his feet, slinging Derek's arm around his shoulders to keep him upright. Henry Denton came forward to take the other side, and together they joined the rest of the prisoners. The lead guard said something to the one with the bayonet, and after an angry glare at Lucien, he moved back into position, and the march resumed.

Lucien and Henry were soon struggling under Derek's dead weight. The lack of food and proper sleep had taken its toll on their strength. "How much longer can they keep us marching do you think?" Henry asked under his breath.

"Wherever we're going, they expect us to get there today," Lucien told him. "I heard them talking earlier."

Henry raised an eyebrow. "In Japanese?"

Nodding, Lucien said quietly, "I can understand a little of it. Better that they don't know."

"Yes, of course," Henry whispered.

They continued on, and slowly Derek started to move his feet, shuffling them until he started to bear some of his own weight.

"I can handle him now," Lucien told Henry. "You take a break."

Henry nodded. "I can relieve you in a while," he promised.

"How are you going?" Lucien asked Derek, when he saw his eyes open, taking his bearings.

"Bloody awful," Derek snarled. "You should have left me to die."

"A long and painful death?"

"What do I have now?" Derek moaned. "Bloody doctors, what do they know? They say fruit is good for you. Yes, well, it hasn't been too good for me, has it? Fruit, healthy? Bugger that. Fruit is dangerous, mark my words."

Lucien chuckled. "Very funny. Making jokes is a good sign."

"You keep telling yourself that when I collapse and you have to drag me along. You'll wish you left me back there too."

And so they trudged on. In truth, Lucien himself was growing weaker by the mile. At one point Henry offered to take over, give him a break for a while, but Derek looked him up and down, and barked, "Dismissed, Sergeant."

Somewhat startled, Henry backed away, questioning Lucien with his eyes, but Lucien had no idea why Derek had reacted in that manner.

When Henry was out of earshot, Lucien remarked, "Was that really called for?"

Derek laughed harshly. "You know, Lucien, you're probably the smartest man I've ever known, and in some ways the most naive."

Thinking that Derek might be the most cynical he himself had ever known, Lucien kept it to himself.

When he got no response, Derek continued to prod him, perhaps hoping to make Lucien mad enough to abandon him to die in peace. He kept his voice low "So naive, in fact, that you couldn't even tell when your wife was sleeping around."

"If you're referring to your affair with her, I'm well aware of it," Lucien told him through gritted teeth.

"She told you?" Derek was taken aback.

"When I was trying to convince her to leave with our daughter, take her to safety. She used every weapon she had."

"So you let her stay and get killed, because she was cheating on you?"

If Derek hadn't been gravely injured, Lucien would have knocked him senseless. As it was, he merely took a deep breath to calm himself before responding. "I tried everything short of tying her up and putting her on that bloody boat by force, but she was an adult and entitled to make up her own mind, even though it meant entrusting my daughter's well-being to the care of some nuns I barely knew!"

Both men seemed embarrassed by Lucien's outburst. They went on in silence for some time.

Lucien was reaching the end of his physical reserves when the men at the front of the procession started chattering among themselves and pointing up ahead. Gradually the jungle growth began to thin out and their destination came into view: a huge prison compound. A sturdy gate reinforced with barbed wire swung aside to admit them. Their march was over, and now the reality of their new circumstances would begin.

Derek seemed to lose his remaining strength, forcing Lucien into dragging him along, with his feet barely moving beneath him. He was only peripherally aware that there were observers watching them, so focused was he on getting them into the building that was their target. He needed to see to Derek and the others.

His singular focus was broken by the cry of a young child. Like any parent, his first thought was that his daughter was in danger. Then he saw it was a young boy, clinging tightly to a woman, most likely his mother. Lucien's heart went out to the woman, who had to deal with two young children in this place of horror. He met her gaze and was immediately impressed with her dignity and composure despite her circumstances. He glanced toward the boy, hoping he was all right, or as all right as he could be at least. She shrugged slightly, and in that tiny movement reflected the uncertainty facing all of them. Lucien could only nod his understanding.

Then they had moved past her and were entering the building. He looked over his shoulder for a last sight of her, but at that moment Derek collapsed and it was all Lucien could do to keep from falling himself. Any thoughts of that lovely woman would have to wait.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Thank you to all who commented/reviewed. For those interested, the source material I mentioned, "Three Came Home", was made into a film of the same name starring Claudette Colbert. Here's the next part of the story wherein Jean and Lucien meet for the first time. Enjoy!_

Jack was still crying and holding his jaw in pain when they were back inside. Jean sat down on the sleeping mat and drew him into her lap. She combed her fingers through his dark curls, trying to soothe him, while Christopher stood beside them at a complete loss for how to help.

Jean noticed him stiffen, and when she followed his gaze, she saw Sniffer had entered. Then Jack saw him too and started to scream, trying to bury his face against her chest. It must be the uniform, she decided.

"You come to Colonel Suga," Sniffer announced to Jean.

Her first instinct was to protest that she would not leave Jack, but taking him with her was not an option either. He would be terrified, surrounded by Japanese soldiers.

Eve Neville stepped forward. "Jean, I'll see to the boys. You go."

"It's all right, Mum," said Christopher. "Come on, Jack. Mum will be back soon." He put an arm around his little brother, allowing Jean to extricate herself.

It was only when she was following Sniffer across the parade ground that Jean began to worry about why the commandant wanted to see her. Was it about the incident between Jack and Bruiser? The colonel had said he wouldn't hurt children, but could she trust that? Or did he plan to punish her for the boy's behavior?

She squared her jaw as they reached the colonel's office door. Sniffer knocked once, then opened the door and motioned her in. She heard it close behind her. Taking a deep breath, she faced Suga.

"Ah, Mrs. Beazley, please sit," said the colonel, smiling and friendly. "Would you like tea?"

Jean was startled. She hadn't had a decent cup of tea since leaving her home in Sandakan. "That would be lovely, thank you, Colonel." She perched on the edge of the chair, her back ramrod straight but feeling totally off balance by this show of hospitality.

He handed her the cup of steaming oolong with a couple of chocolate biscuits resting on the saucer. Her first thought was that the boys would be in heaven, seeing those treats. She would enjoy the tea and save the biscuits for them.

They sipped in silence for a few minutes, then Suga looked up at her, no longer smiling. "Mrs. Beazley, I saw the little one crying."

Jean decided she would tell the truth, albeit diplomatically. "Yes, Colonel. Jack was crying."

"He is sick or hurt?"

"He was hurt," Jean said, meeting the man's eyes, but trying to contain the anger that she felt.

Suga looked at her for a long moment, then began to stir his tea with much more deliberation than it warranted. "Does Jack need a doctor?" he finally asked.

Jean measured her words. It wouldn't do to make the guards angry at her. They could make everything so much worse. "Jack has a very sore jaw. I'm not sure if it's broken."

"You can take him to officers' infirmary," Suga said, nodding.

"That's kind of you, but I'm afraid it would only be worse." She thought quickly. How could she get the point across to him without accusing anyone outright? "My son is afraid of the Japanese uniform right now."

Again Suga looked hard at her, making sure he understood, and Jean realized it was a difficult position for him, if he was as fond of children as he claimed. She and Jack were still the enemy, and to punish one of his soldiers solely on her word could undermine his authority.

Finally he looked down at his tea once more. "I will send a doctor to see to Jack," he promised her. "And my men will not enter the house of ladies and children. Now, you drink your tea and eat your cookies... er, biscuits."

Jean managed a smile for him. "I thought I would take them to my boys, if that's all right."

"You eat. I will give you more for the children."

The moment she finished her tea, she was handed the remainder of the biscuit packet and shown the door.

* * *

There were already a number of prisoners inside when the troop of exhausted Australian soldiers dragged themselves inside. A couple of them helped Lucien move Derek to a pallet.

"Thank you," he said as he bent to check on his friend. "Who's in command here?"

A young lieutenant stepped forward. "I think that might be you, Captain, unless he," nodding toward Derek, "outranks you."

"Right," said Lucien. He paused to glance at the lieutenant who looked to be fresh out of Duntroon, probably one of the recent replacements just arrived. "Lieutenant..."

"Manifold, sir."

"What can you tell me about this place? Where are the senior officers?" Lucien listened as he removed Derek's perspiration-soaked and dirty bandage. The edges of the wound were slightly pink so he applied some anti-biotic salve as he listened.

"The senior officers are at the Selerang barracks a couple miles down the road," said Manifold.

"Is General Bennett in command?"

"No, sir." Manifold hesitated. "Bennett wasn't taken prisoner."

Lucien looked at him. "How did he manage that?"

"He, uh, he left."

"You're telling me Bennett buggered off?" Lucien swore under his breath. His instinct to distrust the man had proven correct.

"Yes, sir. General Percival is in charge, but rumour has it the Japs will be moving him soon."

"So you have contact with the men over there?"

"We've only been here three days," said Manifold. "We were brought here by boat after Singapore fell. Yesterday there was a swap - Major Combs was sent over to Selerang and a couple of sergeants came here. That's how we got the news. Sir, there's a possibility they might send you to Selerang too."

"Yes, well, I'll deal with that if it happens," said Lucien. He affixed a fresh bandage over Derek's wound and stepped away. He had done what he could for the man. "Lieutenant, do you have any medical supplies? I brought what I could carry but it won't last long."

"No, sir, we don't."

"We'll figure something out," Lucien told him. "I'll just check over the rest of the men. We haven't eaten; I don't suppose you have any food."

"We get a meal at dawn and one at dusk. Not much I'm afraid, usually rice and seaweed, and very little of either. If we're lucky, there might be a fish head that's too old for the guards to eat. But the men at Selerang have a way to barter with the locals. The sergeants that arrived yesterday might have hidden something away. Let me check, sir."

As Manifold stepped away, a guard appeared, one of those who had escorted them on the long trek. " _Isha_ ," he said, pointing at Lucien. "Come."

Lieutenant Manifold froze. A guard singling someone out usually meant punishment was coming.

That was Lucien's thought as well. Were his actions in saving Derek's life about to cost him? He had little choice but to go with the guard.

He was totally confused when the guard led him toward the women's camp, opened the gate, and pointed toward their building. He raised an eyebrow, but the guard pointed insistently, so Lucien went inside. He had to squint against the dark interior after the bright sunshine.

"Did someone need a doctor?" he asked.

"Over here," called a soft voice, and he walked in that direction.

As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he recognized the beautiful woman from... was it only an hour ago? She still held the young boy, and he was still crying, although it was now soft sobs.

He gave the woman a sympathetic smile. "Doctor Lucien Blake," he told her. "Mrs..."

"Jean Beazley," she told him, with a soft smile of her own. She recognized him at once. It made sense that a doctor would be assisting the injured man he had been helping. Up close his blue eyes were even more brilliant. She thought he might be the most beautiful man she had ever seen. She could hear the women around them twittering and giggling at the sight of him.

"How do you do, Mrs. Beazley. Now, what seems to be the problem with this little chap?" He knelt down to get a closer look.

Jean was afraid a man in uniform so close to him might send Jack off again, but evidently the sound of an Australian voice was enough to ease his fright. He turned to look at the doctor, then sat straighter and announced, "The bad man hit me!"

Lucien looked at Jean for confirmation, and she nodded. "One of the guards hit Jack with the back of his hand."

Lucien bit back the curse he wanted to mutter, in deference to the company. "I'm sorry to hear that, Jack. Will you let me take a look?" After Jack nodded, he gently rested a hand on the injured jaw. "Now this might hurt, just for a moment, Jack. Can you be a brave fellow for me?"

Jack screwed up his eyes but nodded again.

"Good man." He felt along the affected area as gently as he could and determined the jaw had been slightly dislocated. "Hold tight there for a minute more, and..." While he was talking, he slid the mandible back into its rightful position. "... and that should do it. Now, how does that feel? A little better?"

The boy nodded. "But it still hurts a little," he said.

"Yes, it will be sore for a few hours because the muscles in your jaw were out of place for quite a while. They have to get used to being back where they belong," Lucien explained. "Maybe you could take a nap, and by the time you wake up, you're going to be right as rain."

"I need teddy," said Jack. Christopher handed him the beloved toy, and Jack lay down.

"Good man," said Lucien, patting Christopher on the back. "Do you think you could sit with your brother while I have a word with your mum?"

Dutifully, Christopher sat down at the foot of the woven mat to keep watch.

Lucien drew Jean aside. "He should be fine. As I said, some residual soreness that should fade on its own, but it may still be a little tender for a bit. Soft foods for the next day or so, if there's any way you can manage it."

"Thank you, Doctor," said Jean, much relieved that nothing was broken. "I wish I had a way to repay you."

He touched her arm. "It was my pleasure. Now you say it was one of the guards who did this?"

"Yes, it was, but I don't want any trouble made over it," she insisted, trying not to react to his touch. "Colonel Suga is aware of it and we've come to an understanding."

"Is that right?" Lucien was astounded. This slight woman had come to an understanding with the man in charge of all prisoners in the Pacific Theatre.

"The colonel has children of his own," she explained. "He had promised me that his men did not hurt children. I think he was embarrassed that he was proved wrong, so now he says the guards won't come into the women's camp. I'm not sure how long it will last, but we'll take it."

"Bravo," said Lucien, his admiration shining in his eyes. "How are you and the others here? Anyone I need to see to?" He indicated the other boy. "Is he coping?"

"Christopher? He never complains, just gets on with it."

"Like his mother, maybe?" asked Lucien, a bit of a twinkle in his eye.

Jean could feel herself blush. "Too much like me sometimes," she admitted.

"And they both miss being with their father?" asked Lucien.

He watched her swallow and realized he'd just put his foot in it. "I'm sorry, that was too personal. I do beg your pardon."

"No need," said Jean. "It's just that we lost their father eight months ago. An accident in Borneo."

"Mrs. Beazley, I'm so very sorry for your loss."

The well of sympathy she could see in those eyes was so real she couldn't help tearing up herself. She hadn't cried for Christopher Sr. since Sandakan had fallen. She struggled to regain control. "Thank you, Doctor."

Watching her, Lucien felt she would be more comfortable discussing neutral topics instead. He looked around at their living quarters, noting the barrenness of the place. He nodded toward the fire pit. "You're boiling all your water, yes?"

"The drinking water, yes," said Jean.

Now that the treatment of Jack was finished, the other women moved closer. Jean couldn't tell if they wanted advice or just to get closer to the handsome doctor. Probably a bit of both.

"If you can, I would suggest boiling all of it before use, for washing, cooking, even washing up and utensils. Any number of parasites in the water could be unhealthy for you and the children. Are you getting enough to eat? Particularly fruits and vegetables for the children."

Dorothy Turner spoke up. "Thanks to Jean and her garden, we have enough to get by."

"Garden, eh? Good for you. I'll see if that's something we should look into for the men's camp. You ladies were all in Borneo?"

"That's right," said Eve. "We were in a camp there until a few days ago when they moved us here. And you were in Singapore?"

"Yes. I suspect they're trying to consolidate the camps. Fewer guards needed, so the others can be used for fighting."

"Any news about the war? Have the Americans been heard from yet?" asked Susan Tyneman.

"Not that I'm aware of," Lucien admitted. "It's to be expected that they'll need some time to gear up, to deploy their forces and equipment. I'm afraid we'll be here for a while yet, but don't lose heart. We will be liberated."

"Of course we will," Jean said firmly.

"That's the spirit," said Lucien. "Now if my services aren't required for anyone else here, I do have a patient back in our barracks. Mrs. Beazley, if Jack is still sore after a day or so, please send for me again, yes?"

"I will, Doctor. Thank you again."

"Good bye, ladies." And with a wave of his hand, he was gone.

Eve smiled at Jean, raising an eyebrow. Refusing to be baited, Jean ignored her and went back to check on her boys. She couldn't quite ignore the giggling and sighing that filled the air.

After assuring herself that Jack was sleeping soundly, Jean retrieved a quantity of rice she'd put aside from the morning meal. Doctor Blake had said to give Jack soft food for now, so she boiled some water and added the already cooked rice to soften it into a kind of porridge. A couple spoons of her precious powdered milk gave it some protein and fat, and then one of the passion fruit brought from Sandakan was mashed in for sweetness.

She was stirring the mixture to keep it smooth when she sensed someone coming up beside her. She turned her head to see Susan Tyneman standing over her.

"Jean, you know who that was, don't you?" she said softly.

Jean had no idea what she was talking about. "I beg your pardon?"

"Lucien Blake. He's the son of Doctor Thomas Blake. You remember Doctor Blake from Ballarat?"

Thomas Blake had attended Jean's family the few times medical assistance was needed when she was growing up. "I never connected the name," she admitted. "Quite a coincidence."

"Yes, quite," said Susan. "I wanted to make sure you knew that, well, he comes from a prominent family."

Jean knew exactly what Susan was implying: Lucien Blake was out of her class. Fuming at the implication, she said through gritted teeth, "May I remind you I lost my husband eight months ago. I'm hardly looking for a replacement!"

Flustered, Susan tried to recover. "I didn't mean to imply... I just thought you'd want to know of the connection."

"Right," said Jean. "Thank you for the information, Susan. I'll bear it in mind."

* * *

Lucien was exhausted when he returned to the barracks. He wanted nothing more than to lie down for ten hours of sleep or so. Even food was forgotten in the need to rest. He took a moment to satisfy himself that he had done all he could for Derek, then headed for a pallet himself.

He was about to throw himself down on it when a guard entered and shouted, "Blake!"

"What now," he muttered, and reluctantly turned to the man. "I'm Blake."

"You come."

He looked a question at Lieutenant Manifold, who said simply, "Selerang."

With a sigh a grabbed his rucksack. "Look after Alderton," he ordered.

The guard took his rucksack away and tossed it to the ground. "You come," he repeated.

"Yes, I'm coming."

With the guard prodding him in the back with a rifle barrel every few steps, Lucien proceeded out through the gate and along the road. He tried to memorize everything along the way: the large trees, the places where the overgrowth butted up against the pavement, the open spaces with no cover. If there was going to be an escape attempt at some point, this knowledge would be crucial.

They reached the Selerang Barracks where the Japanese kept most of the captured enemy combatants. Lucien looked down at himself and admitted his appearance was less than correct. He tucked in his shirt and tried to smooth down his hair. His cap was somewhere back in Singapore, and his boots had lost their shine days ago. He buttoned up his shirt to the collar, then decided it was the best he could do. They would have to take him as he was.

Stepping inside, he realized it was an actual barracks, with bunks instead of pallets on the floor and even a cordoned off area used an office. It was there he was directed, to meet with Brigadier Taylor, his commander, and General Percival, the British officer in charge of all Singapore forces.

Lucien saluted and was quickly acknowledged. "Good to see you survived, Blake," said Taylor.

"Thank you, sir."

Percival spoke. "Blake, the Brigadier tells me you're a good officer. I want you to remain in charge of the enlisted men's camp. There's no one else who can lead those men."

"Lieutenant Manifold..." Lucien began.

"Is a milquetoast. Couldn't lead a scout troop," Percival told him. "No, I need you in command down there, Blake. I know you're in line for a promotion. Consider yourself promoted in everything but name. If they knew you were a major, they'd transfer you here, but I'll guarantee that the promotion takes effect dated today, understood?"

"Sir. Thank you, sir."

Taylor spoke up. "We could well be here for a year or more, Blake. It will probably get a lot worse before we're liberated. Those men are going to need discipline and someone to inspire them to get through what's ahead."

"I'll do my best, sir."

"Just stay alive, and take as many of them home with you as you can. Dismissed, Major Blake."

* * *

Life settled into a routine for those at Changi Prison. Every few days new people would be brought in and assimilated into the internee population. The women were happy to welcome three Belgian nuns, all of whom were also nurses and generous with their services. Jack was pronounced fully recovered from his injured jaw, even though his terror of the Japanese guards lingered. Jean, who had slept poorly since the fall of Sandakan, felt a little more at ease since Suga had ordered his men to stay out of the women's quarters, but she knew the colonel was frequently away, and if any of the guards did enter, there was nothing she could do about it.

Slowly her garden began to thrive once more. Unfortunately there were no fruit trees overhanging the fence here, so that element was now missing from their diet. Jean regretted it mostly for the children who needed the extra vitamins the fruit had provided.

She and Ruth Dempster were weeding the neat rows of plants one morning when Ruth looked furtively around then said quietly to Jean, "I want to show you something."

She walked over to the fence and moved aside some loose dirt to reveal a hole that went directly underneath. Then she quickly covered it again.

Jean's eyes went wide. "Are you planning to try an escape?" she gasped.

Ruth shook her head. "I'm going to meet Ben tonight." Her husband was in the non-combatant men's camp. "They have a hole under their fence too," she explained.

"Aren't you taking a big chance?" Jean whispered fiercely. "If you're caught..."

"I need to see him," Ruth insisted. "What would you risk to see your Christopher if you had the chance?"

Jean had to admit Ruth had a point, especially if she didn't have the boys to consider. "Just be careful," she begged Ruth. She instinctively knew they would all suffer if the Japanese did catch them.

* * *

Taking to heart Brigadier Taylor's prediction that conditions were sure to deteriorate as time went on, Lucien determined that he would need additional men with at least rudimentary medical training. Each morning he would hold surgery, where anyone with health complaints would be treated, and he would explain what he was doing and why to his two new assistants, Malcolm Beaufort and Henry Denton. Beaufort had some training as a medic, but had washed out of the program before finishing. Lucien didn't trust the man to react well in a crisis, but his prior knowledge might prove useful. Henry had already shown his compassion and willingness to help. Lucien suspected that in the long run Henry would be the more valuable of the two.

He continued to treat Derek Alderton by himself. Derek refused to let Denton near him, and Lucien did not trust Beaufort with him. In his lucid moments Alderton was still insisting he should have been left to die, and Lucien feared someone would help him do just that.

He was given minimal amounts of the quickly dwindling supply of pain medication, and Lucien knew they were all in trouble without a way to replenish his medical supplies. The shortage of antiseptics was another chief concern, and with Derek's type of wound in particular, it was vital that it not become infected.

A private by the name of Harold Morris solved the problem of the antiseptic shortage. After scrounging everywhere within reach for spare parts, he managed to rig together the means for brewing alcohol. The taste was vile (which didn't prevent it from becoming very popular among the men), but the alcohol content was very high, making it effective as a disinfectant. Morris thought he had kept the location of his still a secret, but Lucien soon worked out that it was behind the perimeter fence in back of their barracks. His immediate thought was that he needed to see not only the distilling operation but also what else was beyond the fence.

He waited until just after sundown, when the guards had made their rounds and retreated to their towers. He only told Henry he was going so that he would know how to find him if necessary.

It wasn't difficult to find where Morris was exiting the camp. Lucien would need to tell him to replace the slats of the fence more carefully or he risked detection and therefore punishment. The distillery was further back, where there was a cover of trees to mask the smoke and prevent the odour from reaching the camp itself. He had to marvel at Morris's ingenuity in assembling the machinery required. Perhaps those scavenging skills could be put to other uses as well.

Lucien began to make his way along the perimeter, keeping to where the jungle vegetation was tall enough to conceal him easily. He noted which of the guard towers was manned and the likely line of sight each one had. He also spotted that each of the barracks seemed to have its own hole for getting outside the fence.

His senses went on full alert when he heard soft voices almost directly in front of him. He stopped, listening further, and made out that there were two people, a male and female, and then he recognized the noises they were making. He had stumbled upon a decidedly intimate moment.

His immediate thoughts went to his late wife, regretting once again that their last interaction had been an argument. Despite her infidelity, he had loved her deeply.

While standing lost in thought, he was spotted by the lovers, who, in the darkness, could make out only that he wore a uniform. They had mistaken him for a guard and scrambled to gather their clothes. Their movements were frantic enough that they could easily draw the attention of a real guard, so he stepped forward to calm them.

"It's all right," he whispered. "I'm not here to harm you. Just doing a bit of reconnaissance."

The woman recognized him. "Doctor Blake," she sighed with relief.

"That's right. And you are?"

"Ruth Dempster. This is my husband, Ben."

"A pleasure," said Lucien. "A word of advice, though. You may want to meet a bit further away from the towers. More discreet."

Ben nodded. "Right-ho."

"Are there others meeting out here?" Lucien asked softly.

"Not so far," said Ruth, "but there probably will be now that we've shown it can be done."

"Just be careful, please," Lucien warned. "The guards are likely to punish the whole camp if you're caught."

He took his leave of them and continued his circuit of the perimeter, making mental notes of everything he saw. He was almost back to his starting point when again he became aware that he had company. He froze until he identified the location of the others, then crept forward for a closer look. It appeared to be a local family - a couple, an older woman, and a young boy. They each carried a basket they were filling with fruits, greens and nuts. He listened to them, identifying the regional dialect they were speaking before he stepped out to make himself known.

"Don't worry," he said first in English to assure them he was not Japanese. Then he switched to their tongue. "I'm a doctor from the camp," he explained.

The man was wary. "You escaped?"

"Not exactly. I'm just outside for a look around."

"Are you looking for medicine plants?" asked the woman.

"There are medicine plants here?"

The older woman reached into her basket and pulled out a variety. "Country bourage, for skin and digestion; callicarpa bark for stomach problems and juice for cuts..." She continued on, identifying each plant and its traditional uses. When she had finished, she handed him the full basket. "For you."

He considered refusing, but realized it might insult her generosity. "You're very kind, but you need your basket." He stripped off his shirt and emptied the basket's contents into it, then tied up the edges to secure them. "Thank you. I will use these to help my men."

"The Japanese killed my brother and his wife," the man explained. "If you need anything we will try to get it for you. We come out here every week."

"Can you get anything for pain? One of my men was stabbed by the Japanese."

"I will find something. You meet me here in seven days?"

"I'll be here. Thank you. That's very generous of you. Is there anything I can do for you?"

The man shook his head. "All we need is for the Japanese to leave us in peace."

The two men shook hands, and Lucien took his valuable gifts back through the hole in the fence, feeling substantially more optimistic about their chances for survival.


	3. Chapter 3

Jean was awakened by Jack's moans. She sat up to see to him, but was overtaken by nausea. Despite the humid heat of the night, she was shivering, and when she looked down at Jack, he was as well. She knew at once: malaria.

She glanced over at Christopher, but he seemed fine, just concerned. He was sitting up and watching her. "What do you need, Mum?"

"Can you get me the medical kit, please?" She had to put a hand over her mouth, trying not to vomit. She thought quickly. The quinine tablets she had were precious. If she took one now she might well vomit it back up, wasting it. No, she would crush a half dosage for Jack but would wait until her nausea passed before she took one herself.

Christopher brought the kit as she'd asked, but when she tried to split the small tablet her hands were shaking too much. Seeing her difficulties Christopher knew just what to do. He went to wake Sister Bernadette, everyone's favourite of the Belgian nursing nuns.

Sister Bernadette's English skills were very good. "You know it's malaria," she said softly to Jean.

"Yes, I've had it before, but Jack hasn't. I'm trying to give him quinine."

"Please, allow me," said Sister Bernadette. Quickly and gently she had Jack swallowing the bitter medication. "Now it's your turn."

"I'll wait until the nausea passes," said Jean. "No need to waste it."

"You could get much worse before the nausea passes," the nun pointed out. "You need to look after yourself, Mrs. Beazley, for the sake of your sons."

Jean debated with herself a little longer before admitting the sister was right. Malaria could cause long term damage if left untreated. Dutifully she swallowed the tablet.

Sister Bernadette smiled approvingly. "Now, you rest. I'll keep watch on Jack for you."

"Thank you, Sister. You are truly a godsend."

A few hours later when she awoke again Jean felt even worse, and Jack did not appear to be any better either. She guessed they had both been bitten by the same mosquito and contracted a particularly virulent strain. At least she had been able to keep the medication down.

With effort she lifted her head and looked around. The nuns appeared to be busy working with a number of patients. A full-blown outbreak, no doubt. She watched Sister Bernadette go to the doorway and summon someone. A few moments later Sniffer appeared and the two spoke briefly before the guard walked away. Jean lay back down, hugging Jack to her in a vain attempt to warm both of them.

The next time she awoke, Doctor Blake was touching her arm. That's what must have roused her.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Beazley," he said. "I just need a quick check on you. How are you feeling now?"

Jean had to admit to herself that she suddenly felt much better. Probably from just knowing a doctor was looking after her, she decided. He felt her forehead for signs of a fever then took her pulse.

"I do feel a bit better," she told him, making him smile.

"And the little one?"

Jack was still asleep beside her, and she glanced down at him. He seemed to be peaceful now. "He looks better too. The quinine must have helped."

"That's wonderful," he said, beaming. "Be sure to keep taking it until all the symptoms are gone, yes? You have enough?"

"I think so." He really was awfully kind, she thought.

"Good. Now be sure to rest. No gardening in the hot sun until you're well."

"Yes, Doctor."

"If they'll let me, I'll be back to check on you in a couple of days. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have others to see. A pleasure, Mrs. Beazley."

"Thank you, Doctor." There was a smile on her face as she lay down and gathered Jack close.

* * *

Lucien was relieved that Mrs. Beazley and her little lad seemed to have uncomplicated malaria, caught before it could move beyond the liver and damage other organs. He admired the woman who seemed to face all obstacles and just get on with life.

He moved to check on the others who were ill. Those that had taken quinine right away were beginning to improve already, but there were several who had not had the foresight to pack any. He made a mental note to ask his new friends, the Leong family, if they could acquire some quinine or a local substitute.

When he had finished seeing the patients, he introduced himself to the nuns. "Doctor Lucien Blake, sisters."

Sister Bernadette spoke for all of them, since her English was the best. "A pleasure to meet you, Doctor."

Recognizing what was going on, he switched to French so that they could all understand him. " _Tout le plaisir est pour moi_ ," he began, then thanked them for looking after the women and children. He asked about mosquito netting to hang over the sleeping areas and was advised there was very little. Few had thought to pack it at the time of their captivity. He promised to see if he could find any. Another item to request from the Leongs, he decided.

After being assured that he had seen all the malaria patients, he took his leave of the sisters and headed for the doorway, but a somewhat familiar-looking woman stepped into his path.

"Lucien," she said, "perhaps you remember me. Susan Tyneman. From Ballarat."

It took him a moment to connect the name. Ah, yes, Paddy Tyneman's wife. The last time he'd been home to see his father they had just announced their engagement. Lucien had looked in at their engagement party, staying only as long as etiquette required.

"Yes, of course, Mrs. Tyneman. A small world, eh?"

"Indeed. And there's another Ballarat native here, although I'm sure you never knew her back home. Not exactly our social circle."

He bristled at the notion that he and the snooty Mrs. Tyneman somehow shared social standing. "And who would that be?" he managed to ask, trying to remain civil.

"Mrs. Beazley. The former Jean Randall. Her family had a small farm outside town. No reason you should have come across her in Ballarat, but I thought you should know who she is."

Lucien had no doubt what she was really saying. He was tempted to make a cutting remark but had no idea of the social strata here in the women's camp and didn't want to make things uncomfortable for Mrs. Beazley. "I'm afraid I didn't know her in Ballarat, but from what I've seen of her character, I'm sure it was my loss. Now, if you'll excuse me."

* * *

Jean and Jack recovered quickly enough from the malaria that no further doctor visits were required. Jean admitted to herself that she wouldn't have minded another visit from Doctor Blake. It made a nice change to see a man who wasn't a guard, and he was rather charming. She dismissed the notion, telling herself she was just tired of seeing the same faces day after day after day.

Her musing was interrupted by Ruth Dempster. "Jean, I have something for you," she said quietly. She produced a hemp sack and handed it over.

Jean's brow furrowed. Who could be sending her something here? She looked hard at Ruth as she took the sack and slowly opened it. Inside was a large length of mosquito netting, enough to cover herself and the boys at night. "Who...?" she began.

"I'm not supposed to say," Ruth told her before leaning in to whisper, "a certain doctor made me promise."

"I see," said Jean. She should have known. "Well, in that case, you'd better not thank him for me. Or tell him how grateful I am."

Ruth smiled at her. "He's a good man, Jean."

"I'm sure he is," Jean sniffed. Why couldn't anyone understand that she still loved Christopher, still grieved for him every single day? And besides, she didn't even know if Doctor Blake was already married.

She was about to turn away and begin hanging the mosquito netting over their sleeping area when there was a loud commotion outside. The boys were both busy attending Eve's "school" so she went out to see what was going on.

Japanese guards were marching all of the Australian soldiers out the gate and down the road. Near the end of the long line was Lucien Blake, loudly protesting. "I have patients," he insisted. "They'll die without medical care."

"You want I kill them now?" Bruiser growled.

"No, no, of course not. I just...". He threw up his hands and looked to the sky in frustration.

Jean nudged Evelyn Touhey who somehow always knew what was was going on. "Are they being transferred?" She prayed not, telling herself it was because of her boys. What if they should need a doctor?

Evelyn looked on sadly. "Four Australian soldiers tried to escape from Selerang," she explained. "The Japs plan to punish all of them in retaliation."

"Punish? How?" Jean said sharply.

"I'm not sure yet. I just know it will be bad."

 _Author's Note: Thank you to the guests who took the time to comment. I'm sorry I can't thank you personally. Also, thank you to all the authors who have been posting incredibly awesome stories of late. The quality is just amazing!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Trigger warning for sexual assault and extreme violence.**

Lucien looked back over his shoulder at the retreating camp as they were being marched down the road toward Selerang. He was leaving three non-ambulatory patients behind: two complicated malaria patients, both critical, and Derek Alderton, whose abdominal wound wouldn't seem to heal from repeated infections. Not only did the men need constant medical care, but none were able to get sustenance or water by themselves. They couldn't survive more than a day or two without assistance.

"What do you think they're going to do to us, Captain?" asked Lieutenant Manifold.

"I have absolutely no idea, except that it won't be good," said Lucien, trying to focus on what might be ahead of them. He knew the Japanese were not averse to mass punishments for any transgression.

As they entered through the gate at Selerang he could see that the Australian and British soldiers barracked there were already assembled on the open and exposed parade ground. There were many thousands in view, far more than Lucien had known were in the camps. (He learned later that all the prisoners in the area had been transferred to Selerang to be part of this exhibition of Japanese control.)

Four men were held separately from the rest, under tight guard down by the beach, their hands bound behind their backs. The unfortunate ones who had tried to escape, Lucien guessed. When he spotted the trench dug behind them, he winced in sympathy, knowing their fate was already sealed.

He and his men were brought onto the parade ground to join those already in formation. He noticed that Colonel Suga was nowhere in sight; a newly-arrived cadre of administrators was in charge. The word was that the Suga tended to avoid scenes of punishment. He usually managed to be away when such things were required, which did not bode well for the prisoners. The new man, Lieutenant General Fukuke signaled for Lucien and the other commanders to step forward.

"You will promise not to escape," the Japanese officer instructed.

The senior Anglo-Australian officer, Lieutenant Colonel Galleghan, shook his head. "As soldiers it is our duty to escape if we can," he insisted. "This order violates the Geneva Conventions, General."

"You will promise not to escape," Fukuke repeated. He held out a sheet of paper from the stack of them held by a corporal. "You will all sign this now or your men will suffer."

"We can not sign this," Galleghan said, handing it back to him.

Fukuke shouted to one of his lieutenants and shots rang out. The four bound men slumped to the ground, but were not yet dead. One was screaming in agony. Instinctively Lucien started toward him, but was ordered back into formation by Galleghan. One of the bound men pleaded to be finished off, and a nod from Fukuke granted his request. A second volley of shots killed all four of them.

"More will die if you do not sign," said Fukuke, again holding the paper toward Galleghan.

Although the suddenness of it shocked and saddened him, Lucien knew, and assumed Galleghan and the others did as well, that the four men would have been executed even if the paper had been signed. The real question was what would happen next.

Galleghan took a deep breath but was still adamant. "I cannot sign that. None of us can."

"Then you will stay here until you do."

The guards moved forward, herding the prisoners into a tight circle in the hot sun, bayonets at the ready for anyone who dared to step out of formation. And the wait began.

* * *

At the women's camp everyone seemed to be holding their collective breath. They didn't have a lot of contact with the soldiers, but for most of the women these were their countrymen.

"What do you think is going to happen to them?" Ruth whispered to Jean. As if by consensus they all spoke with hushed voices.

"Whatever it is, it can't be good," sighed Jean. She wondered if there was anything she could do. She had never liked feeling helpless. It always made her doubt her own worth.

"I hope..." Ruth began, but the sound of gunfire stopped all conversation.

Jean gasped. All she could think was, let it not be Doctor Blake. She knew it was uncharitable of her. Surely whoever had been shot had people who needed them, loved them, but selfishly she hoped the doctor was all right. He had been very good to her and the boys.

She thought about the last moments she'd seen of him. She wasn't surprised that he had seemed to be more concerned for his patients than for what was about to happen to himself. It was then she decided that perhaps she could be of some help to the soldiers after all. If they didn't return by nightfall...

She turned to Ruth. "By any chance, from your trips outside the fence, do you know how to get into their camp?"

* * *

The heat was relentless. Lucien knew that at this rate men would be dropping like flies before sundown. He edged closer to the colonel so he could speak with the man. "Excuse me, sir."

Galleghan seemed to be faring reasonably well despite his age. "What is it, Blake?"

"Sir, if I could make a couple of suggestions to help the men cope?"

"Yes, of course."

"I would suggest they keep covered as much as possible, limit the area exposed to the sun to guard against sunburn or poisoning."

The colonel looked around at the men, many of whom were already bare chested, and nodded his agreement. "What else?"

"Anyone who can should cover their heads, and the back of the neck as well, sir. Perspiring might cool the body, but we need to prevent dehydration."

"So ordered. Blake, how long before we start losing men here?"

Lucien glanced around at the half-starved bodies surrounding him. "I'm afraid it won't be long, sir. Right now I think we should focus on surviving until nightfall. And hope it rains overnight."

"Yes, we can certainly use the water."

Galleghan still wore his cap, but his neck was exposed. Lucien retrieved a clean but no longer white handkerchief and handed it to his superior. "Sir, if you hang this from under your cap."

"What about you?"

With no cap himself, Lucien's entire head was exposed to the brutal sun. "I'll be fine, sir," he insisted. "It's important to morale that the men see you managing."

Galleghan nodded. "Thank you, Blake. Good man."

Lucien stepped back to begin relaying the instructions. For his own part, he removed his singlet and fashioned it into a kind of turban with the tails of it hanging down the back of his neck. Not particularly fashionable but it served the purpose. There was little more he could do now but wait.

* * *

Jean stood in the doorway, looking alternately up at the setting sun and down the road that led to Selerang. She prayed that the soldiers would return before darkness fell, for their sakes and her own. She admitted to herself that she was scared of carrying out her plan, but she resolved not to let her fears stop her from helping those who needed her. She only wished she knew what was happening to Doctor Blake and the others.

She had confided her plan to Ruth, who had bravely offered to accompany her, but Jean refused to put anyone else in danger. She asked Ruth only to show her the opening to get into the soldiers' camp and she would do the rest alone.

She wondered if she should take any food to the injured men, but in the end decided against it, not knowing what or even if they could eat. Perhaps tomorrow night, if she was still needed. By then she would know something of their condition, and she could consult with Sister Bernadette beforehand if necessary. Tonight she would take them only clean water for drinking.

The sun sank lower and finally disappeared altogether. Jean gathered up every bit of her courage to face whatever was ahead. She kissed her boys and hugged them close, telling them how much she loved them.

"What's going on, Mum?" Christopher asked.

"It's fine, my darling boy," she assured him. "I just have to help someone, but I'll only be gone an hour or so. You look after your brother, and if you need anything you go tell Miss Neville, understood?"

"Can I come with you to help?"

Her heart squeezed with love for her boy, always looking out for others. "The best way to help me is to look after Jack," she assured him.

"All right," he sighed. "You'll be careful?"

"Always," she assured, kissing his forehead.

Christopher sat down beside Jack and began telling him a story, but his eyes remained fixed on Jean, who gave him a little wave as she went through the doorway.

Ruth was waiting for her by the fence. The hole underneath it had already been cleared, and following Ruth's lead, Jean wriggled through easily. Emerging on the other side, she brushed the loose dirt from her clothes as she stood up and looked around. The moon was flitting in and out from behind clouds so her vision was limited.

Ruth held a finger up to her lips for quiet then motioned for Jean to stay close behind her as they crouched and hurried toward the soldiers' camp. They stayed in the cover of the jungle undergrowth until they reached the other fence, where Ruth swung a section of it aside to allow Jean to squeeze through.

"Be as quick as you can," Ruth whispered. "The guards patrol back here sometimes, but not according to any schedule so keep your eyes and ears open. You can get back on your own?"

Jean nodded. She mouthed her thanks to Ruth then hurried into the barracks building. As she stepped inside, she paused, waiting for her eyes to adjust and for the moon to provide some slight illumination. She finally made out three forms lying on pallets near each other. The medical area most likely. That's where she headed, remembering to crouch low as she passed the "windows", which were nothing more than holes cut into the walls to allow in light and air.

The first soldier she reached was obviously suffering from malaria. She should have known, and perhaps brought some quinine with her. She would remember to do so tomorrow night, if the rest of the soldiers had not returned by then, she decided. She wondered if Doctor Blake had a store of medical supplies somewhere. It would be close by, she thought, and she began looking.

One of the soldiers was watching her search. She was a little unnerved by his scrutiny but thought she might recognize him. "Aren't you the man Doctor Blake was helping when you arrived here?" she asked quietly, well aware that guards could be patrolling nearby.

"Alderton," he told her. "You are?"

"Jean Beazley, one of the internees," she told him.

"How do you know Blake?"

"Doctor Blake was kind enough to treat my son and me."

"Ah, yes, the kindly Doctor Blake, heals everyone whether they want it or not," Alderton said bitterly.

Jean bristled at his tone. "In my experience, that's what doctors are supposed to do," she said haughtily. "Now, seeing that he's not here, and God only knows what he and the others are enduring, is there anything I can do for you, Captain?"

He looked her up and down, making Jean feel somewhat dirty. Her only defense was to stare the man down until he looked away.

"He's not what you think he is," Alderton said finally. "He couldn't even keep his wife satisfied."

 _Of course he's married,_ Jean thought to herself. Nevertheless she felt a need to defend the man. "I suppose you would know," she said, a fire in her eyes. "And yet he still saved your life, didn't he?"

Alderton just turned away, muttering, "He should have let me die."

Not letting the bitter man distract her, Jean continued her search until she came across a rucksack half full of bandages, bottles of medication and various medical implements. She was a little puzzled to also see a bottle of some type of strong drink before realizing the alcohol in it was probably used as an antiseptic.

After locating the supply of quinine, she gave a dosage to the first man and also to the third one who seemed to be malarial as well. Then, after a deep, calming breath, she returned to Alderton. "Your bandage needs changing," she told him, kneeling down to peel off the dirty and sweat-stained covering on his wound.

He grunted in pain but still faced away from her. Jean ignored him, concentrating on the task at hand. She used the alcohol to clean the wound, then affixed a fresh bandage.

With the medical issues handled as best she could, she gave each of them a healthy drink of water and placed a container of more within reach of them. Next she found the uneaten meals left near the doorway for them. She assisted the malaria sufferers to sit up so she could feed them. She wasn't sure she actually wanted to do the same for Alderton, or even if he was allowed to eat solid food, but he solved her dilemma by warning her not to even try.

"Right, then," she said softly, addressing them all but looking only at the other two. "If Doctor Blake and the others haven't returned I'll come back tomorrow night to see to you."

Two of them thanked her while Alderton just ignored her. As quietly as she could, Jean slipped back outside, through the hole in the fence and back to the women's camp. Alderton may not have appreciated her efforts, but she hoped she had made a difference to all three men.

As she kissed her boys and slid down onto her sleeping mat, she knew it would be difficult to face Alderton the following night, but Jean was tough and fierce. If it was required of her, she would do it again.

* * *

It was very late at night when the rain finally came. The prisoners held their faces up eagerly to drink it in and relish its cooling effect. They caught it in any type of makeshift vessel they could fashion, knowing they faced another grueling day in the sun.

With their thirst slaked, the next biggest problem was bodily waste. Packed so closely together, there was nowhere to deposit it except where they stood. Lucien knew that dysentery and even hepatitis were bound to appear very soon under such conditions. In their present circumstances he could see no way to prevent them. There was no use warning the colonel if he had no solution to present as well. And he accepted that tending to the men as they fell ill meant he would almost certainly become sick as well with no way to protect himself.

The morning dawned clear and hot. In other circumstances Lucien might have enjoyed the sights and sounds of the jungle sunrise, but now it filled him with dread of what the day would bring. As he did every morning, he thought of his tiny daughter, praying she was safe somewhere. If he made it to the end of the war, his first actions would be tracking her down and taking her home safely to Australia. And hoping she could somehow forgive him.

The day dragged on. General Fukuke again appeared and directed that the document be signed, and again Galleghan refused. "You will sign, now or later," Fukuke insisted, before he retreated to the shade of the administration building.

Lucien admitted to himself he had never been much of a chess player, but he could see no end game in the present scenario that would allow the prisoners to come out ahead. The Japanese could afford to wait as long as necessary, allow as many deaths as it took before the seemingly inevitable surrender. All Lucien could do was try to keep them alive as long as possible.

By the end of the second day a number of men were already ailing. Lucien did his best to treat them, but with no instruments or medication there was little he could do to help except try to keep them hydrated. When the nightly rains came, it only served to make them worse as they shivered and shook. And by the end of the third day, he was sick as well, just as he had feared. Handling so many men suffering from dysentery had taken its toll. When the sun rose on the fourth day, he was too weak to even stand.

* * *

As the days went on, the women began to wonder if the soldiers would ever return. Somehow Evelyn learned what was going on - that the men had been crammed into Selerang Square where they were made to stand all day with no food, water, shade or hygiene facilities. It was rumoured that many were very sick, with a handful close to death.

The atmosphere was subdued among the women, and even the children were quieter than usual, recognizing the tension in the camp. Each night after darkness fell, Jean would slip outside the fence and make her way over to the soldiers' camp. One of the malaria patients seemed to be getting better, although he told Jean that he would "relapse" whenever the guards entered as he feared being sent over to Selerang. The other one, though, was slipping away. The quinine didn't appear to be helping. Perhaps he had already suffered too much organ damage. Jean tried to make him more comfortable and listened to him talk about his family, a beautiful wife and bright, loving daughter. Jean promised that she would contact them when it was possible and pass on his love to them.

Captain Alderton continued to be an irritant to her. He would make disparaging remarks about Doctor Blake and accuse her of being his whore. Jean ignored him as she cleaned and redressed his wounds and gave him water. He still refused to eat anything she placed in front of him, but she suspected he was emptying the bowls she left at his bedside.

On the third night, she discovered that the more extreme of the malaria patients had passed away. Tenderly she closed his eyes and pulled his thin blanket up to cover his face. Crossing herself, she said a brief prayer for the man and hoped he was now at peace. Neither of the others seemed inclined to talk, so she did what she could for them silently before slipping back outside to head home.

Perhaps her preoccupation with the soldier's death made her less vigilant than she should have been. She had just gotten back under the fence and replaced the loose dirt when she was grabbed from behind. Her right arm was wrenched up behind her back while a hand squeezed her left breast painfully. She cried out in pain and fear which caused her attacker to pull her up tight against his body and clamp a hand over her mouth. She could feel his erection pressed against her back.

Her heart beat furiously, and in her panic it took a moment for her to begin to fight back. And fight back she did. She bit down hard on the hand covering her mouth, then kicked out behind her. The hand on her breast finally fell away, allowing her to turn and face her attacker. It was too dark to see his face, but from his bulk and the sound of his grunts she knew it was Bruiser, the guard who had struck Jack.

He hit her across the face, sending her sprawling, landing on her already tender right arm. She felt something give way, and when she attempted to rise, she found the arm was almost useless.

Christopher must have recognized her cry. He stood in the doorway, shouting, "Leave my mum alone!"

The doorway quickly filled with women calling out to her. Perhaps fearing the consequences of being caught, the guard kicked at Jean with his heavy boots, then slipped away into the darkness.

Jean moaned in pain, hurting all over: her face, her arm, her breast, her ribs where the kick had landed. She wanted to sink into the ground, overwhelmed by her own weakness and humiliation.

Christopher reached her, kneeling beside her protectively. "What can I do?" he asked softly.

That broke her completely. She began to sob uncontrollably.

While the other women hesitated, not sure what had happened or what to do, Sister Bernadette rushed to her aid. When she realized the extent of the injuries, she called for the others nuns' assistance. Together they helped Jean inside and laid her on her mat. A light was lit, and a collective gasp greeted the sight of Jean's injuries.

She moaned and tried to collapse in upon herself to hide from their scrutiny.

Sister Bernadette shooed the others away, except for Christopher, who stood over her with his eyes round and filled with fear. Jean tried to reach out to reassure him, but her ribs screamed with pain. She felt useless, on top of everything else.

Dimly she was aware of Eve Neville scooping up Jack and leading Christopher away with soothing words. Her boys were safe. She could give in to her dark feelings of agony and despair. For a while she knew nothing more.

* * *

 _The Selerang incident actually occurred, although there are significant variations in the historical accounts of it. I have used the details that fit my narrative the way I wanted to tell it._


	5. Chapter 5

The heat and stench were overpowering on the fourth day the prisoners were held in Selerang Square. Lucien was only dimly aware of what was going on around him as Henry held him upright. He knew that several men had died during the night, and that many more would die on this day. He could only hope he wouldn't be among them.

When General Fukuke came out onto the parade ground, Lucien tried to focus on what was being said. It seemed that the general was getting impatient. He ordered Colonel Galleghan to direct his men to sign or the hospital and camps would be emptied of the sick and wounded, with them joining the rest here in the square.

Facing the inevitable, Galleghan requested that he be allowed to discuss the situation with his staff. Apparently sensing a concession, Fukuke agreed.

When the Japanese had withdrawn, Galleghan gathered the various commanders around him. Lucien still had to be supported, unable to stand on his own.

"Blake, are you with us?" Galleghan asked, wanting to be certain he knew what was happening.

"Sir," said Lucien.

"Good man. Now, I think you'll all agree we can't let this continue. Since the General has ordered us to sign under threat to our injured mates, I'd say that constitutes duress, agreed?"

There were murmurs of "Yes, sir".

"Under duress, we are allowed to sign anything and are not bound by the terms of what we sign," Galleghan explained. "Therefore, I say let's sign the damned thing and end this."

"Yes, sir," was repeated, much more strongly.

"Objections?"

There were none.

"Good. Now, gentlemen, if anyone wants to sign with a false name, well, we were just ordered to sign, weren't we? Pass the word to the men."

"Sir!"

And so it ended. Several hundred "Ned Kellys", a few dozen "Charlie Chaplins", and a handful of "Mickey Mouses" were scribbled on the papers, along with some Xs and curses. (Lucien signed as Alexander Fleming.) Finally everyone who could lift a pen, or had one lifted for them, had scribbled on the sheets of declaration. Satisfied that he had won, Fukuke finally allowed the men to disperse to their original barracks.

Henry and Lieutenant Manifold carried Lucien between them after he rejected the option of going to the prison hospital. He was afraid he wouldn't be allowed to return to the camp which General Percival had charged him to command.

As they passed each of the other camps in the compound on their way back, the residents cheered their return despite their sorry condition.

Lucien was deposited on his pallet, but before he could get some much needed sleep he asked Henry to check on the patients who'd been left behind.

Henry returned with the news. "Sir, I'm afraid Hughes is gone. Probably some time yesterday. But Evans is much improved, and Captain Alderton is somewhat better as well."

"How is that possible?" Lucien frowned, thinking he hadn't heard it right.

"Evans says they were visited by an angel each night. She tended to them and gave them food and water."

"I see," said Lucien, although he didn't just yet. "Did this angel tell them her name, by any chance?"

Henry grinned. "Yes, sir. An angel by the name of Beazley. Jean Beazley."

"An angel, indeed," Lucien agreed. "I hope I have a chance to thank her."

"That can wait, sir," said Henry. "For now, let's get some clean water into you, clean you up, then sleep."

"Of course," said Lucien. "Thank you, Henry."

* * *

Jean wanted to disappear, become invisible while she tried to heal from the violence done to her. Sharing an open space with dozens of women and children made her feel on display. Every pitying look stabbed her with guilt for allowing this to happen. Eve Neville and Sister Bernadette tried to reassure her that she bore no fault in the matter, but Jean couldn't help feeling she should have been more careful, she should have heeded Ruth's warning to keep her eyes and ears open.

Christopher and Jack were bewildered, wary of her injuries and frightened by her tears. Seeing her boys hesitant to be near her broke Jean all over again. She lifted her uninjured left arm to motion them closer despite the pain such movement caused to her bruised breast on that side. Jack quickly snuggled against her, thumb in his mouth and teddy bear clutched close. More carefully, Christopher approached, knelt down beside her, and softly kissed her cheek.

"What can I do to help, Mum?" he said softly.

She managed a smile, albeit a teary one. "My sweet boy. Maybe you could sing us a song?"

He nodded, thinking a moment before he began with a song she used to sing to her sons in the days before the war took them away from everything they knew. "There'll be bluebirds over the white cliffs of Dover..."

As he sang the sad but hopeful ballad, she began to drift off to sleep.

The almost-peaceful moment was shattered by cries and shouting, and then cheering from outside. Christopher stopped singing and looked a question at her.

"You'd better see what all the fuss is," she told him, "but come right back." Jean was reluctant to let them out of her sight for even a minute.

He disappeared but returned quickly. "The soldiers are back, Mum. They don't look too good, but they're back."

Jean felt relief wash over her. At least she didn't need to feel guilty now about leaving her two patients to fend for themselves. Then another thought struck her. "Was Doctor Blake with them?" she asked Christopher.

He paused a moment, but when he saw her face he told her the truth. "He was there, but I think he's sick, Mum. Two other soldiers were helping him walk."

He was alive. That was all she needed to know. He would recover and be fine. He would be there if her boys needed him, she told herself. That's what was important. Yes, Doctor Blake would be fine, she was sure of it.

* * *

Lucien slept more than he had at any time since his adolescent years. In his waking moments he took in as much water as he could handle to offset the dehydration of the previous days. Henry kept him apprised of the others' condition so that he could rest without feeling that he was shirking responsibilities. Even Derek was uncharacteristically quiet and complacent, making Lucien wonder, as he drifted back to sleep, what exactly had gone on in his absence.

When he finally awoke feeling much better, he was ravenously hungry and weak as a kitten. His body craved protein, something in short supply with what the Japanese provided. He had to settle for rice and weak fish broth and accept that it would take some time to regain his strength. In the meantime, he had plenty to keep him busy, and the sun would be setting soon.

His first task was to see to Evans, the recovering malaria patient. He was sitting up, chatting with his mate Harold Morris.

"Corporal, you're looking better," Lucien told him. "How are you feeling?"

"Definitely on the mend, sir," said Evans. "Mrs. Beazley was a godsend."

"An angel?" Lucien teased.

"Absolutely," confirmed Evans. He leaned forward and spoke softly. "She even put up with Captain Alderton's insults."

Lucien was not pleased. "Captain Alderton insulted Mrs. Beazley?"

"I'm afraid so, sir, and, well, he insulted you, too, sir. I felt bad for her. She was only here to help us, sir."

"Quite," said Lucien. He'd be having words with Derek.

Morris spoke up. "Sir, I have a contact in the women's camp. You should know, Mrs. Beazley was attacked on her way back the last night we were gone."

"Attacked? Is she all right?"

"Well, not so much," said Morris.

Lucien thought quickly. He needed to check on her, but how? "Private Morris, can you show me the back way into their camp?"

"I don't know, sir," Morris said slowly. "Since the escape attempt the guards are patrolling more out there."

"Having problems tending your still?" Lucien guessed.

"As a matter of fact..."

"Yes, well, how about telling me instead of showing me? Can you do that?"

"That I can do, sir."

Lucien nodded. He would have a busy night. He was scheduled to meet the Leong family at the usual time. He could visit the women's camp afterwards. Before then he had to deal with Derek. Not a conversation he was looking forward to, but best to get it done straight away.

He retrieved the supplies he needed, took a calming breath and went to Derek's pallet.

As he pulled off the old bandage and looked at the wound, he said, "Someone's been taking excellent care of you while I was away."

Derek met his eyes, must have recognized the veiled anger there, and looked away. "Bloody meddling woman. She's as bad as you, Lucien."

The anger flared. "I've known you long enough to know what a pain in the arse you are, but Mrs. Beazley was just trying to be kind. And what does she get for it? Your damned insults and then being assaulted on her way back. Honestly, Derek, don't you think it's past time for you to start acting like an officer instead of a bloody spoiled brat?"

"I told you to let me die back there," Derek muttered.

Lucien bit back the retort he wanted to make, reminding himself that Derek was still his patient. He concentrating a bit too intently on affixing the fresh bandage before he spoke again. "Whether you want to or not, you're going to live, so you had better get used to the idea."

He checked over the other dysentery patients from their ordeal on the parade ground, who like himself were now recovering. Then with the darkness fully upon them he picked up the empty carryall he used to hold the supplies brought by the Leong family and put in a few items he might need to treat Mrs. Beazley. Private Morris told him how to find the hole under the women's fence and again warned him to be careful.

When all was ready, Henry insisted on being his lookout, scanning for guards before he swung aside the loose portion of the fence. "I'll be right here until you return, sir," he told Lucien.

"Thank you, Henry." Lucien would have to see about getting Henry a promotion if they both survived captivity.

Lucien slipped through, keeping low and moving slowly to avoid drawing attention to his motion. When he reached the meeting place, though, it was empty. Perhaps they had been delayed. He would wait a while to see if they showed up. He stayed crouched in the undergrowth, his senses on high alert and was just about to give it up when he heard a whisper of rustling leaves. He bent even lower until he saw who the intruder was: Mr. Leong. When the local man saw him, he motioned for Lucien to stay where he was and remain quiet. Carefully he moved up beside him and leaned forward to speak softly.

"I'm sorry but I can't come again," he told Lucien. "There are guards patrolling everywhere. It's too dangerous."

"I completely understand," said Lucien. "I'm very grateful for all you've done. You've saved lives. If there's ever anything I can do to repay you..."

"All we need is the Japanese gone from our land," said Mr. Leong. "Good luck to you."

"And to you and your lovely family." Lucien accepted the items that Mr. Leong had brought and thanked him again. While waiting until the other man was well away before he could move himself, he checked what had been brought. In addition to the things that were requested, Mr. Leong had brought a sack of fruit. Perfect. Everyone was suffering from a lack of vitamins. He put three of them aside with the medical supplies for Mrs. Beazley. Everything else he would pass to Henry before he went on to the women's camp.

* * *

Jean welcomed the fall of night. The darkness concealed her from prying eyes and pitying looks. She could curl up with her boys, nursing her physical and emotional pain in private.

Jack had now adjusted to his mother's fragile psyche. As long as he could cuddle up against her at night, he was content. Christopher, on the other hand, had become hypersensitive to her mood. He tried to deflect anyone who made to approach her, and looked to anticipate anything she might need. Jean knew she would have to deal with his dependence when she felt better; remind him how to be a child. For the time being, though, she was grateful for his presence.

She felt him get up and leave her side. Her eyes tracked him as he went to speak with Sister Bernadette then returned and bent over her.

"What is it?" she asked quietly. Somehow she felt she had to be quiet, in contrast to the screaming in her head that seemed ready to overwhelm her most of the time.

"Mum, it's Doctor Blake. He's here to check on you if you'll let him."

Did everyone know, she wondered. Was she an object of scorn or pity to the entire compound? She supposed that since he'd taken the trouble and braved the danger of leaving his own camp, she might as well speak with him at least. She did need to see a doctor and she absolutely refused to go to the Japanese infirmary.

She merely nodded to Christopher, and he returned moments later with the doctor. Despite the dim light she was shocked by what she could see of his appearance. He had lost a substantial amount of weight, and she could tell by the lines around his eyes that he was still unwell.

He had lost his jovial manner as well, perhaps in deference to her own condition. "Mrs. Beazley, I'm so very sorry you were hurt," he began. "Can you tell me where you're injured?"

She first wondered if she dared let him touch her, but then told herself not to be silly. She knew very well he was only there to help. Doctor Blake was a good man.

"My arm," she began. "My shoulder really. The right one."

Watching him closely she could see him wince as he worked out in his mind what had been done to her. He started to reach for her, then stopped to ask her permission.

"May I? I need to determine if anything is broken or dislocated," he explained.

She nodded very slowly, bracing for the inevitable pain, but he probed very gently through the cloth of her blouse.

"It seems to be bruised muscles, possibly a strain. Not too much swelling. I would suggest you keep the arm in a sling until it feels better. That will restrict the range of movement, help the muscles relax."

He fashioned a sling for her from a spare blouse and helped her slip it over her shoulder and onto her arm. "Very good. Now, what else hurts?" he asked.

The gentleness of his voice nearly undid her. The camp was not a place given to gentleness except perhaps between mothers and their children, and after what she'd just been through, she craved it with her whole heart.

She took a moment to compose herself. When she looked up to meet his eyes, he was waiting patiently. "My ribs," she said at last.

"Are they bruised or something more? Any difficulty breathing? Is there a lump or swelling over the bruise?"

"Just sore," she told him, trying not to relive the moment when she was kicked.

"I have some arnica that may help," he told her. "Since ice seems to be out of the question, I'd suggest hot compresses to the area, yes?"

Jean nodded. She thought perhaps Sister Bernadette might be able to help with that.

"Also vitamin C is good to promote healing of bruises." He reached into his bag and brought out three pieces of passion fruit. "Pineapple would be best, containing bromelain, but in lieu of that, we might try these." He looked down at the boys, both of whom were watching him with their eyes wide. "Perhaps if Christopher and Jack have been very good chaps you may want to share some with them, but most of it goes to mum to help her get better, understood?"

Jack nodded, grinning, while Christopher said, "I'll make sure, sir."

"That's a good man. Now, Mrs. Beazley, anything else?"

Jean hesitated to tell him how sore her breast was. Especially within hearing of her children and the dozens of straining ears she could sense all around her. And since there was no lump or swelling anyway, the treatment for her bruised ribs should work just as well there.

"Just what you can see," she told him, indicating the swelling around her jaw and the bruises on her face,

Again he asked her permission before touching her. After feeling the jaw, cheekbone and orbital area, he assured her it was bruising, and although painful, nothing more serious.

"Thank you, Doctor. For coming and for..." She waved her hand over her body.

"You're most welcome, Mrs. Beazley. I'm in your debt for the wonderful care you provided to my patients. If there's anything you need, anything I can do to help, I'm at your disposal. And I feel I owe you an apology for Captain Alderton's behavior. I understand he was rude and ungrateful towards you."

Recalling how uncomfortable she'd felt around him seemed almost ludicrous to Jean now when compared to subsequent events. She nodded that she accepted his apology, even knowing he had no need to make it. "It's fine. He was in pain."

"Nevertheless..." He paused and leaned closer. Jean had to fight the instinct to pull away, assuring herself the doctor posed no threat.

"It was one of the guards who did this to you? I want to file a formal complaint with Colonel Suga when he returns."

"No!" Jean shook her head furiously. She was positive nothing good would come of it, and she didn't want the doctor or herself to become a target of the guards' wrath.

"Are you certain? He shouldn't be allowed to get away with what he did."

"Please, no," she insisted. "The colonel will only resent it and nothing will be done. Please promise me you won't report it."

"If that's what you want," he told her. He reached out, perhaps intending to reassure her, but pulled back, his eyes soft with concern.

He stood up instead. "Right then. I'm off. Please rest as much as you can, and if anything gets worse, send word to me, yes?"

"Thank you, Doctor Blake."

She watched him speak briefly with Sister Bernadette before he disappeared through the doorway.

* * *

Lucien crouched beside the women's fence, listening intently, before finally slipping beneath it and fading into the dense undergrowth. Once again he moved slowly, silently, until he was opposite the loose part of the fence at his own camp. He was about to approach it when a sound very near him caused him to freeze. He slipped further down, lying flat to show no profile against the moonlight. Not daring to so much as turn his head, he relied on his ears to follow the guard's movement. The man moved to within a few feet of where Lucien lay, stopped briefly, then continued on.

He waited until the Japanese soldier was well away, then did another careful reconnaissance before finally reaching the hole in the fence. As promised, Henry was waiting for him, holding the opening for him. Lucien slipped through and nodded his thanks.

"All good, sir?" asked Henry.

Lucien nodded. "No more trips outside for anyone, though, until the guards settle down. A few days at least. Let the men know, please."

"Yes, sir. How is Mrs. Beazley?"

Lucien thought for a moment. "I don't suppose you know where we might get some pineapple?"


	6. Chapter 6

The sling that Doctor Blake had recommended made it easier for Jean to deal with her sprained shoulder, but the other injuries, both physical and emotional, still kept her confined to her mat in the corner for most of each day. Young Christopher was perfectly willing to spend his time at her side, ready to help in any way he could, but the more boisterous Jack was tired of being restricted. When the sounds of raucous shouting from the other children reached him, he darted away to join the fun.

"Do you want me to keep an eye on him, Mum?" Christopher asked.

Jean looked at her elder son, so much like herself - doing what needed to be done regardless of the cost. Remembering her own dreams at his age, she decided it was time she started acting like his mother again. "You should play, too," she told him.

"What about..."

"I'll watch," she insisted. Slowly, carefully, she got to her feet. Ignoring the stares and whispers of the other women, she went to the doorway with Christopher and sat down there. With a shooing motion, she sent him to join the impromptu soccer match the children were playing with a "ball" made of rags tied together.

As she sat watching, she had to admit that it felt good to have sunlight shining on her face. She shaded her eyes with her left hand so she could look around the compound. Jean felt rather like a bear emerging from a long winter hibernation.

The guards seemed to be more omnipresent than previously, especially those watching the Australian soldiers' camp. Evelyn had told her about what happened in Selerang Square. The Japanese must have seen the signed declaration as just as worthless as the Australians did. She wondered if it might inspire more escape attempts than it prevented.

Returning her attention to the children, she saw how Jack fought tenaciously to keep up with the older children while Christopher ran interference for him, clearing others out of his way. Jack kicked the ball up into the air, and as Jean's line of sight tracked it, she caught sight of Doctor Blake and another soldier standing in the doorway of their own camp, watching the match with amusement. The doctor must have noticed her at the same time. He lifted a hand in greeting. Jean's sore ribs and breast allowed her only a half-hearted wave in reply, but she saw him grin. He really had a lovely smile, she thought, before returning her attention to the match.

* * *

Lucien had learned from Private Morris that the Japanese had a stockpile of tinned pineapple in their storeroom. "So much they'll never miss some," said Harold. "The only problem is getting in and out without them noticing."

"Yes, of course," Lucien agreed. "Any suggestions?"

"Sorry, Captain. I've been trying to time their routine, but so far no luck."

"Let's have a look at them, shall we?"

The two of them walked over to the doorway. Conveniently, the children in the women's camp were playing soccer, which gave the soldiers an excuse to be standing outside, watching the match.

They stood there for a while, one eye on the children, the other on the guards.

"Looks like they don't work shifts now," Morris noted of the Japanese soldiers.

"Yes, they change one man at a time, about every hour. And each one seems to go out to check the perimeter as he leaves the watchtower."

"Doesn't give you much time to get into the storeroom, find what you need and get back here. You sure you want to do this, Cap?"

"It's the least I can do," Lucien sighed. "Mrs. Beazley was hurt because she saved the lives of Alderton and Evans. They couldn't have survived four days on their own."

Morris glanced at him, then returned to studying the guards. "My Evy, that is to say, my contact in the women's camp, thinks pretty highly of Mrs. Beazley. They both lost their husbands just before the war really got going. She says Mrs. B was a big help then, and now she's kind of a leader over there. Not so much with the talking, she just gets things done."

"Yes, that's my sense of her as well," said Lucien.

As he was watching the children, he saw the subject of their conversation appear.

Morris saw her too. "There she is now. Must be feeling better."

"I don't think so," said Lucien, while waving to her and smiling. "Look at how stiffly she's still moving."

"Yeah. But Cap, you really don't want to do this. I know I take some chances I probably shouldn't with my whiskey making and all, but even I think this is too dangerous right now. I mean how will she feel if you get caught and she's the reason for it?"

Lucien turned on him sharply. "She's not to know, Private. Not under any circumstances. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." Morris wasn't much of a soldier, but he knew an order when he heard one.

* * *

Her brief foray into the sunlight had worn Jean out. As soon as darkness fell, she gathered her boys close, and for a welcome change she fell asleep almost immediately.

 _She was walking through fields of golden wheat, enjoying the sun on her face and the soft wind rustling her hair. The gentle sounds of sheep and birds reached her from a distance, carried on the breeze as she strolled along with no particular destination in mind. She smiled as she saw him coming toward her, his clothes well-worn but his dark eyes and chestnut curls were shining, his devilish grin delighting her._

 _She hurried into his arms, loving the wiry strength that held her tight against him. Strangely, his chest seemed broader than usual. "Have you been lifting weights?" she asked, looking up at his face._

 _To her surprise, the eyes had turned sapphire blue, his curls golden, but the arms were just as secure and the grin different but just as devilish._

The sound of gunfire startled her from sleep, and the boys both jerked upright beside her. There were murmurs all around as everyone tried to figure out what was going on.

Eve Neville crept toward the doorway to peer outside where the searchlights made it almost as light as day.

"What's happened?" Jean called softly.

"The guards are dragging someone... One of the soldiers, it looks like."

"Is he dead?" asked Jean, a hand over her mouth in shock.

"I can't tell. Now they're tying him to that post in the center of the ground," said Eve in a hushed voice. Then she gasped.

"What is it?" Susan Tyneman demanded.

"I know who it is. It's Captain Blake. The doctor!"

Jean closed her eyes in horror. With a shock, she realized that the man in her dream, the one who had started out as her Christopher had turned into Lucien Blake. Had it been a premonition or something else?

* * *

The sun was in his eyes when Lucien opened them. He tried to raise a hand to shield them, and only then did he realize just where he was: bound to a post, the ropes around his wrists keeping him upright. He was naked from the waist up with drying blood covering one side of his face.

With some effort he recalled the events that had led to this: under cover of darkness he had made it safely to the storeroom, picked the lock, and slipped inside. He didn't have a torch and turning on the lights was out of the question, so he had to depend on the faint moonlight coming in through the windows as he tried to locate the supply of pineapple Morris had mentioned.

It took him longer than expected, but he finally found the stores. They were large cans, and he hefted one from the back row, hoping it might not be missed. Then he just had to get out and back to the barracks without being noticed. That's when it all went wrong. As he opened the door to leave, shots were fired just over his head. Knowing he had no way out, he dropped the can of pineapple and raised his hands in the air. The guards advanced, shouting at him, and when they reached him, something had struck his head.

He knew nothing else until he had come round tied to this damnable post. He tested the strength of the bonds, although he had no idea what he could possibly do if he were to work himself free anyway. He'd just be shot. Which was probably what they were going to do anyway.

Regrets bombarded him. His darling Li, wherever she was, would grow up never knowing how much she was loved. He had failed in his promise to General Percival to lead his men. He would never be able to put things right with his father. The people who depended on his medical skills would have to do without. He would never again have the pleasures of lying with a beautiful woman.

The face of Mrs. Beazley floated before him, not from regret at trying to help her, but because he wished he could have known her better.

Slowly the compound around him came to life in the morning heat. _This is it, Blake,_ he told himself. _Whatever happens now, take it like a man. Your men will be watching, along with all those women and children. Do your best._

The Japanese soldiers assembled. Suga was not present, which Lucien took as a very bad sign. He wasn't afraid of dying, not really, just of making a bad job of it.

He tried to keep his focus on the Japanese so he wouldn't have to meet the eyes of anyone he knew. Spare them that, at least.

The captain of the guard addressed him in heavily accented English, so heavy that he could only make out parts of it. Stealing, punish, example, forty days. Maybe they weren't planning to execute him after all?

The captain barked an order to one of his men, who stepped forward brandishing a flexible rod, somewhat similar to a riding crop. Before Lucien could even brace himself, the first blow struck his bare back. The intense pain was immediate, exploding everywhere, surrounding him.

* * *

Jean had ordered her boys back inside, but felt it would be disloyal somehow not to watch and send her best thoughts in his direction. She had certainly seen children beaten with a rod at school, but nothing like this. With each blow she winced, digging her fingernails into the palms of her hands. The only sounds were the crack of the rod as it struck and the gasps of the women around her.

She didn't know how many blows were struck or how long it lasted, only that the captain seemed to sag after some time, with the ropes around his wrists the only reason he remained upright. She was unaware of the tears streaming down her cheeks as she watched the blood splatter from his back with each new strike.

Finally, mercifully, the guard with the rod lowered his arm. Two others stepped forward, untied the ropes and began to drag his limp form, but not toward the soldiers' barracks. Instead, they took him a short distance, in the direction of the women's camp. Another guard lifted up what looked like a door in the ground, possibly a storage area of some kind? Captain Blake's body was tossed down into it, his limbs being folded to fit inside, and then the heavy door was closed on top of him.

Jean felt nauseous. Growing up on a farm, she had seen violence, but never such cruelty deliberately inflicted by one human on another. Stumbling back inside, she sank down onto her mat and buried her face in the crook of her elbow, but with her eyes closed she kept seeing it again and again: the blows striking, his body contorting, blood everywhere. Abruptly she sat up, staring anywhere, just to keep her eyes from replaying the sight of that horrific punishment.

The boys did not know what had happened, only that it was bad and had upset her. They both went to her, and she wrapped her arms around them, holding them so tightly that Jack had to protest.

"Mum..."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," she murmured, kissing the top of his head.

"It's okay," Jack said as she ran her fingers through his hair to soothe him. "Mum, can you sing me a song?"

"A song? What would you like, darling?" Anything to take her mind off Doctor Blake.

He thought for a moment. "Bingo," he decided. He had just learned the alphabet at their makeshift school.

"Very well, then," she said, smiling down at him, "but you need to join in with the spelling. Yes?"

He nodded, and she began to sing, "There was a farmer had a dog..."

Her attention, though, was still on that hole in the ground, wondering if he was still alive.

* * *

He came back to consciousness slowly. Everything hurt. When he opened his eyes: nothing. His head ached so much he thought he must have gone blind. He tried to move, to ease the pain in his back. Very little movement. Was this hell? He panicked. Pounded the walls, the floor. No response whatsoever.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm down and assess the situation. What had happened? He remembered breaking into the storeroom. A blow to the head - that accounted for the headache, but the blindness? Despite the pain, he moved his head as much as the cramped quarters would allow. There - a tiny shaft of sunlight coming through what must be a louvered opening. Was he underground? That would account for the lack of sound from the floor and walls. With that opening at least he wouldn't suffocate.

Then he recalled the beating, or as much of it as he had endured before blacking out. He must have been thrown in this hole afterwards. He held his breath, listening for any sound that might identify his location. Was he still in the camp compound? Did he dare to call out or would that make things worse? Could they get any worse, short of killing him outright? And was that worse than this? Had they said forty days? He'd go crazy long before that, with no human contact.

He shifted as much as the dimensions of the hellhole would allow, moving to a foetal position so that his back was no longer in contact with the surface beneath him. That made the pain a little less unbearable. If he could just figure out where he was maybe he could find a way to cope.

Again he listened for any sound, and he heard something. Was that singing? A lovely female voice. He strained to make out the song. "And Bingo was his name-O."

Lucien nearly laughed with relief. He knew exactly where he was. All right. He could do this. He wouldn't let the Japanese defeat him. He would survive!


	7. Chapter 7

Day 2 of confinement

Jean had to admit that being in the sunshine had made her feel better. She needed more of that. The boys were with Eve at "school" so she made her way outside, sitting on the grass with her back against the wall of the camp and her face turned up to the sun. She kept one eye on the spot where that small door had closed over Doctor Blake's inert form, listening closely for any sound that might indicate that he was still alive. If he wasn't (God forbid), but she herself made it through the war alive, how would she ever tell his father what had happened to him? The stern, unsmiling Doctor Blake Senior was a daunting figure, but surely behind that imposing façade was a man who loved his only son. She could not begin to imagine how she would feel if anything like this happened to one of her boys.

But she knew in her heart that it wasn't just for Thomas Blake that she prayed for his son to be alive. He had provided a source of light in her darkest times in this prison. He was a good person, a kind person. She could only wonder where he had been caught and what he had been doing to have garnered this punishment, but she knew it couldn't have been bad or evil. Most likely he had been trying to help someone, that's the kind of man he was.

Evelyn Toohey came out and sat nearby, nodding to Jean. "Do you think he's still alive?" Evelyn asked.

"I pray he is," Jean said softly.

"Harry doesn't care for most officers, but he says the captain is tolerable."

"Harry?" asked Jean, raising an eyebrow.

"My friend in the soldiers' camp," Evelyn explained. Seeing Jean's look, she continued, "I loved my Gerald, but he's been gone for almost two years now. Harry is a pleasant chap. Bit of a gossip, but he knows everything that goes on in the whole compound. When he says Doctor Blake is tolerable, that's high praise from Harry."

"I see," said Jean. She had wondered how Evelyn always seemed to know what was what.

"Makes you wonder what his wife was like," Evelyn continued.

Jean thought back to what Captain Alderton had said about the woman, then dismissed it as the grumbling of a sick and bitter man. "I'm sure she's a lovely woman," she said firmly, hoping to shut down that line of the conversation.

" _Was,_ you mean. She was killed in the bombing of Singapore," said Evelyn. "Just after he got his baby girl out of there. Imagine having to send your little one out into the world alone like that. Her own mother refused to take her away from there. She paid the price for that, God knows."

"At least he got his daughter out. She might have been killed with her mother, or wound up in here all alone," said Jean. "Still, I'm sure he's worried sick about the poor girl."

Evelyn looked toward that hole in the ground. "That's if he's in any state to worry about anything. Have you heard him at all?"

Jean shook her head. "Nothing."

"It's close enough that if he was yelling even softly we could hear him," Evelyn observed.

"I suppose so," said Jean slowly, thinking. If he was close enough that they'd be able to hear him, maybe he'd be able to hear them as well. "I'm going to try something," she said.

She considered her options. Maybe a taste of home would be best, she decided. And she began to sing.

" _Once a jolly swagman camped by a billabong_

 _Under the shade of a coolibah tree,_

 _And he sang as he watched and waited 'til his billy boiled,_

 _Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda with me?"_

Several other women came out to see what was going on, and at a few whispered words from Evelyn, they joined in the singing.

" _Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda,_

 _Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda with me?_

 _And he sang as he watched and waited 'til his billy boiled,_

 _Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda with me?"_

As she continued singing, Jean saw Sniffer and one of the other guards come out of their barracks and walk across the grounds in their direction. Sniffer was carrying an obviously full bucket. He smiled at the women and waved his free hand in time with the music as though he were conducting them.

The singing faltered at first, then stopped completely when the two guards reached the small door above where Doctor Blake was imprisoned. While the other man kept his rifle at the ready, Sniffer set the bucket aside and reached down to open the door.

The women held their collective breath as the door was pulled aside. The other guard shouted, "Up", and with a helping hand from Sniffer, the doctor emerged slowly, stiffly, from the hole in the ground. He was shading his eyes and blinking rapidly but still looked around to get his bearings.

Only then did Jean notice that the majority of the soldiers were now outside their barracks watching. When they saw their captain they cheered before coming to attention and saluting him. Blake returned the salute to them, then turned to the women and did the same to them. Jean could see him smiling, despite the state of him.

Sniffer dipped a ladle full of water from the bucket and handed it to him with a rice cake. The doctor tried to take his time eating and drinking but the other guard made his impatience clear. When he had finished drinking, Sniffer dumped the rest of the bucket into the hole, scattering it to rinse the entirety of the small area.

All too soon, Doctor Blake was ordered back inside. He turned and looked directly at Jean, giving her a "thumbs up" gesture before he disappeared once more.

When he was gone, Evelyn leaned closer to Jean and said softly, "I'd say he appreciates your singing."

Jean only smiled. It would seem the good doctor was still very much alive, and if the singing helped him in any way she would be happy to do more of it.

* * *

Lucien woke from a dream of playing with his darling Li in the back garden of their home in Singapore. The war was still far to the north, almost another world from the pleasant peace of this moment in time. Li would toddle away from him to point to a flower, wanting Papa to tell her its name. Lucien, having no idea of the actual variety, would make up a nonsense name on the spot. "That's a purple-petal posey," he would tell her. Or "that one is a golden-top Li flower". The little girl would giggle uproariously and run back to hug him.

Those days were so far away from where he was now, that sometimes Lucien thought they must have been no more than a dream. But the ache in his chest reminded him Li was all too real, and if this war ever ended he would find her and make a home for the two of them, no matter what it took.

It was easier to sleep in this hole than it was to stay awake and suffer the pain from his back and his head as well as the intense boredom. There were only so many times he could recite to himself all the bones and muscle groups of the human body or the symptoms of various diseases common to Southeast Asia. His mind had always craved challenges, and it tended to go to dark places when not wholly engaged.

He had just decided to turn it to mapping out every inch of his surroundings and determine the best position to assume, but when he heard the singing begin, he concentrated on that instead. Was it the same voice that had been singing the night before? When he recognized the tune he almost laughed. Although he knew very well the song had absolutely nothing to do with waltzing, he had used to sing it to Li as he held her in his arms and waltzed around their sitting room while she laughed and urged, "Again, Papa."

He listened as the singing went awry then stopped altogether. Were those footsteps he heard? What now?

A moment later the sound of metallic jingling. Keys? And then the door above him opened. The sudden influx of daylight blinded him momentarily. Someone shouted, "Up!"

He shaded his eyes, trying to focus, and made out a hand offered to him. He clasped it and just managed to pull himself upright. He paused a moment to take a deep breath of the fresh air before looking around. He heard a cheer and some shouts of encouragement. Still shading his eyes, he looked over at the barracks to see his men snap to attention. He felt proud to return it smartly. Then, to thank the ladies for their help in keeping him sane, he turned to them and gave another salute, offering them a smile as well. He noted that Mrs. Beazley was sitting against the wall, and many of the other women looked at her when he saluted. So it was her voice he had heard at first.

He was given water and some rice, which he accepted gratefully. Then he watched as one of the guards dumped a bucket of water into the hole. He studied it closely, seeing that it seemed to drain out along one side. Good to know there was drainage and he would not drown when the inevitable rain started.

He nibbled at the rice cake, not wanting to down it too fast after a period with no food. The last thing he needed was to vomit it back up. As he ate and drank he made up his mind that when they forced him back inside he would settle on his left side, the optimal position for digestion.

All too soon the guards indicated he should go back inside. Could he continue like this for another month? Did he have a choice? At least if the singing continued and he was allowed a break like this now and again, he had a chance to survive it. He knew he had to let Mrs. Beazley know how important her singing was to him. He gave her a big smile and a thumbs-up, hoping she could see that he appreciated her efforts. When she smiled back, he tried to freeze the image, take it back down in that hole with him.

* * *

Day 15 of Confinement

Gradually Jean had returned to her gardening. The first time she tried, as she saw the spot where the attack had occurred, flashbacks of her assault had left her shaking in terror. One of the nuns must have noticed, because the next time she was ready to try, Sister Bernadette and the others had accompanied her out the door and stayed with her as she inched her way closer and finally knelt down to begin pulling weeds. The others then went indoors, but Sister Bernadette remained to help with the weeding, and she continued to help from then on.

One morning, after a night of particularly heavy rainfall, the two of them were attempting to get the plants upright again where they had been beaten down. The nun would hold each plant in its desired position while Jean arranged the soil around its base once more. "Thank you, Sister," Jean said quietly.

"We all enjoy the fruits of your labours here," the sister replied. "We are more than happy to give you a hand when needed."

"I wonder if I could ask a favour," said Jean. "I've been trying to think of new songs we can sing for Doctor Blake. I understand his mother was French, so I thought if I could learn something simple in French that he would recognize, it might provide him some comfort."

"What a splendid idea! Last night must have been difficult for the poor man, so a familiar song would be just the thing for him. _Frère Jacques_ , perhaps? I'm sure every French mother has sung it to her child."

"Yes, that might be a good choice," Jean agreed. "At least I know the melody of that one, but I don't know a word of French, I'm afraid. Do you think you can teach it to me?"

"Most certainly. We can start right now, if you'd like, Mrs. Beazley."

Jean smiled. "Maybe you could call me Jean? You've been so kind to me, I feel like we're friends."

"I feel the same way, Jean," Bernadette said softly, returning the smile. "What you've been doing for Doctor Blake is just lovely."

"I feel it's the least I can do, after his help when Jack and I were so sick."

"Well, then," said the sister, "shall we begin? It starts, _Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques, dormez-vous? Dormez-vous?"_

* * *

The rain beating on the door just above Lucien's head was relentless. Like gunfire rattling through his skull. He didn't know how long it had been going on, but he had all he could do not to scream at it in frustration at his inability to do anything else.

It began to rush through the louvered hole in the door. Knowing that the drain was there, he wasn't too concerned with how much came in until he realized there was at least an inch of standing water around him, and the level was rising.

Terrified of drowning in this hellhole, he felt frantically in the dark to find the edge of the drainage slot. It was blocked with some kind of muck making him think it was just as well he couldn't see what it was as he used his fingers to force it through the slot. Gradually he could feel the water level go down as more water drained away. He felt a sense of relief for several minutes until the drumming of the rain on the metal door again grated on every nerve he had.

He tried to leave his body, let his mind take him somewhere else, but the incessant noise kept pulling him back. Finally, at some point, he must have fallen into a restless sleep. He woke feeling exhausted, every muscle in his body aching from being strung so taut, but at least the noise had stopped. Judging by the light peeking through the hole up above, the sun was now shining.

He was still so disoriented, though, that he couldn't remember if today was the day the guards would allow him outside for food, water, and a brief taste of sunlight. He needed it badly, but as he waited helplessly to see if they would come for him, he heard the singing begin.

" _Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques,_

 _Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous?_

 _Sonnes les matines! Sonnes les matines!_

 _Ding ding dong! Ding ding dong!"_

Immediately he felt his muscles begin to relax as the churning in his brain began to calm. The pronunciation of the words was just a little off, but the sweetness of the voice and the kindness of her intention overcame that. He sent up a prayer of thanks to Mrs. Beazley as his mind drifted off to happier times.


	8. Chapter 8

Day 30 of confinement

Jean woke up to an immense sadness. This would have been her Christopher's thirtieth birthday. He was like a big kid when it came to birthdays, and Jean had been only too happy to indulge him. Elaborate cakes, big parties, special gifts, letting him have his way all day long. Now, here in the camp, occasions were all but forgotten. Oh, Christmas and Easter were observed, especially by the nuns, but birthdays, anniversaries, smaller holidays were barely mentioned in passing. It wasn't like they could exchange much in the way of presents or have traditional foods in celebration.

She thought about what she could do on this particular day to honour his memory and decided the best way to remember him was through the legacy he had left in the form of his sons. She would spend the whole day with them, doing whatever they wanted to do and telling them about their father.

Jack was delighted to hear he wouldn't have to go to "school" while Christopher Jr, only watched her closely, picking up on her sadness. Jean made it her mission to see him smile before today ended.

Throughout the day they read stories, played games and Jean answered all the boys' questions about their father. She told them he had been kind and brave and strong, and he had loved them both very much. She reminded them of how he would come home at the end of the day and lift them high over his head, tickling them until they couldn't stop laughing. Finally she got a smile out of young Christopher as he nodded, remembering.

They had finished what passed for dinner when Christopher Jr. said, "Mum, do you remember when Dad would sing 'Over the Rainbow'?"

"Yes, of course," said Jean. They had seen 'The Wizard of Oz' at the cinema, and Christopher had sung the song to his boys for weeks afterwards.

"I didn't like those flying monkeys," Jack recalled, "but I wasn't scared when Dad would sing that song."

"Could you sing it for us now?" young Christopher asked.

"If you'd like," said Jean, kissing the top of his head.

"Not here," said Christopher. "Outside. You didn't sing for Doctor Blake today. Maybe he could listen, too?"

"My sweet boy. Your father would be so proud. Of both of you," she said, hugging them both.

Christopher took her hand and led her outside.

* * *

After another night of steady rain, Lucien felt ready to jump out of his skin. He kept trying to change position but couldn't find any relief. He'd gotten no sleep all night and still couldn't shut down his mind enough to doze off. He tried counting backwards, reciting the periodic table of elements, quoting Shakespeare's sonnets, but nothing could quiet the racing anxiety that consumed him. In frustration, he used his hands to drum popular tunes against the door above him.

That served to remind him that he hadn't heard Mrs. Beazley's singing all day. Had he dozed off and missed it? Had his mind wandered off again? He was getting worried about that, worried about his sanity. The little mental trips made it easier to pass the time, but at what cost? When this was over, would he still be prone to these 'vacations' from reality? He was a doctor, a surgeon. Focus was vital in his profession. How could he practice if he couldn't concentrate?

He was trying to stop letting his mind wander quite so much in order to prove to himself he could stay focused, but that meant he had to find other ways to stave off the boredom. And at times like this, when he was already stressed, trying to concentrate on anything seemed daunting.

It stressed him even more to think he night have missed Mrs. Beazley singing today. Or maybe she had given up on him. Surely she had other things, more important things to do. Looking after her children, tending her garden. Maybe she was sick again. Or still suffering from the attack on her. Maybe she needed his medical skills and he couldn't help her. He was useless. His father had said he was wasting his talents and look where he was now. If he'd only stayed in Ballarat...

He remembered a perfect summer day spent on the shores of Lake Wendouree with his mate Matthew Lawson. After a long, wet winter the lake was teeming with trout, and the two boys had plenty of luck with their fishing rods. They had their shirts off, their trouser legs rolled up and bare feet.

"Should have enough to fill everyone up at dinner for once," Matthew observed, holding up his catch.

Lucien grinned at him, knowing there were times when the Lawsons didn't always have enough food. "You might as well take mine," he said breezily. "I'm not sure my mother would know how to clean them anyway."

"I could show you," Matthew offered.

Lucien made a face. "That's all right. Your mum would like them more than mine."

"If you're sure."

"I'm sure."

"How are you ever going to be a doctor if you can't even stand to cut up a fish?"

"I'm sure I could dissect it, just not clean it," Lucien informed.

"Oh, right," said Matthew, clearly not convinced.

Suddenly Lucien stood up. "Can you hear that? It sounds like singing."

And then Lucien was back in the damned hole. But the singing was very real.

" _Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high,_

 _There's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby._

 _Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue,_

 _And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true."_

Lucien smiled to himself at the sound of that lovely voice. it calmed him instantly. He hadn't missed her song nor been forgotten. Knowing that, he decided he could keep his sanity for another day, at least.

* * *

Day 40 of confinement

It was a beautiful day outside. For once the jungle humidity was tolerable and the temperature was pleasant. Jean had woken full of energy, feeling better than she had at any time since her attack. She couldn't have said why she felt so good on this day until Evelyn said quietly, "Today's the day, you know."

"What day would that be?" she asked.

"They're supposed to let Doctor Blake out today."

"Really? How do you know?"

"My Harry asked Sniffer about it. He said the sentence was forty days in the hole, and today's the fortieth day."

"It's about time," said Jean, frowning. She remembered watching a few days ago, the last time they'd let him out for food and water. The poor man had lost a shocking amount of weight and been barely able to stand upright. He'd still managed to salute the soldiers and the women, but she thought he looked... confused? Uncertain? She could barely imagine what it must be like down there, especially for someone as gregarious as the doctor seemed to be.

But he was to be freed today. She prayed he could make it back to the barracks under his own power. Somehow she knew that would be important to all of them: the soldiers, the women, and especially Doctor Blake himself. It would prove that he could not be broken, a victory over the Japanese torturers.

She wondered if she should still sing for him today. She decided that if he had not been released by the early evening, she would do it this day as well. But what song would be appropriate? Something to build him up, let him know how important he was to the whole camp. She decided she knew just the right song, but she wasn't entirely sure of all the lyrics. Who might possibly be able to help? If she could just be certain of several verses, that should be enough. She thought she might ask Eve Neville.

"Oh, I love that song," Eve enthused. "Cole Porter is one of my favorite composers. I used to sing it with my sister all the time. Of course I'll be happy to help you with the lyrics."

Jean was honest. "I hope it won't be necessary, that they'll release him soon, but in case they don't... well, I want to have it ready to sing."

As the day went along, all eyes seemed to be focused on that small trap door. Every time there was movement among any of the guards, breaths were held, waiting to see if this was the moment they were all waiting for, but the afternoon wore on with no sign of release.

The Australian soldiers were not happy. Their grumbling grew louder as the sun moved across the sky and began its downward arc. As the daylight waned, so did their patience.

Jean watched with concern as they threatened to become unruly. She thought this might be the right time. She cleared her throat and began to sing, immediately silencing everyone.

" _At words poetic, I'm so pathetic that I always have found it best,_

 _Instead of getting 'em off my chest, to let 'em rest unexpressed._

 _I hate parading my serenading as I'll probably miss a bar,_

 _But if this ditty is not so pretty at least it'll tell you how great you are._

 _You're the top! You're the Coliseum._

 _You're the top! You're the Louvre Museum._

 _You're a melody from a symphony by Strauss._

 _You're a Bendel bonnet,_

 _A Shakespeare's sonnet,_

 _You're Mickey Mouse._

 _You're the Nile,_

 _You're the tower of Pisa,_

 _You're the smile on the Mona Lisa._

 _I'm a worthless check, a total wreck, a flop._

 _But if, baby, I'm the bottom you're the top!"_

And at that point, Sniffer came out of the guards' barracks, and a cheer went up from the Australian soldiers when he headed for the trap door.

* * *

Twitching. Shaking. Shivering. Lucien could not be still. His mind raced. Would it never end? Would _he_ end here? Was he forgotten? What would happen to Li?

He felt nothing but loathing for himself. He had failed so many people. He didn't fear death, only failure.

 _Do your best._ His father's words haunted him now. Was this the best he could do?

He heard some voices rumbling, Aussies by the sound of it, and less than pleased at something. He hoped they weren't in trouble.

Then he heard the sweetest sound: Mrs. Beazley singing once more. Everything else grew quiet so he could hear every word, every note clearly. Immediately it calmed him. He felt like laughing when he recognized the song. He certainly didn't feel like "the top". On the other hand, Mrs. Beazley herself was certainly worthy of all those metaphors.

Through the tiny hole above he could see the light fading as she sang. Another day gone. He had no idea how many he'd been down here now, but thoughts of that could wait as he lost himself in listening to the song. He hoped that someday he would have the opportunity to tell Mrs. Beazley just how much her singing had meant to him. He was certain he owed her whatever sanity he'd managed to retain.

Suddenly he heard a cheer, and the singing stopped. And then the door above him opened. This was new. He'd never been let out this late before. It was certainly easier for his eyes to adjust in the diminished light. It was the same guard as usual; the man had revealed his name was Corporal Maeda.

Lucien squinted to see the hand held out to him. As he tried to pull himself upright, he realized just how weak he had become. Upon climbing laboriously to his feet, he saw that the corporal had not brought the usual bucket of water and food. Was this a new form of torture?

"You go," Maeda announced.

Confused, Lucien merely gaped at him for a moment, before glancing over at the barracks and seeing that the men still cheered before they snapped to attention and saluted him.

"Go," Maeda repeated to him, with a shooing motion.

It was at that moment he realized what was happening: it was finally over. He had survived it.

His first thought was to fall to his knees, but he remembered that he was still the commander of these men. He could see them, as well as many of the Japanese guards, watching him closely. He drew himself upright as best he could, trying to assume proper military posture.

But before anything else, he needed to acknowledge a debt. He turned to the women's camp, and his eyes sought her out. She stood by the doorway, smiling brightly. He couldn't help but return it and bow to her. She nodded in response, and his heart felt considerably lighter. Now all he had to do was manage the walk back to the barracks under his own power.

He turned in the right direction and took a tentative step to see if his legs would still support him. They were weak and shaking, but he refused to be defeated by his body's failings. Maeda followed behind him to open the gate, although Lucien was barely aware of him. It required full concentration to put one foot in front of the other, but as soon as he passed through the gate he was swarmed by his men. Discreetly Henry moved next to him and flung an arm around his shoulders that helped him remain upright as they all moved inside.

As soon as they were out of sight of the guards, all strength left him. His legs gave out entirely. Henry managed to catch him, and with Manafort's assistance they manhandled him over to his pallet. He collapsed face down, only to hear the gasps as the men saw his back. He could only imagine what it looked like after the weeks of neglect.

"Infected?" he asked Henry.

"Afraid so, sir. Let me see what I can do."

"Thank you, Henry. And I could use some water, and food, if there's any around."

Quickly a dozen men were offering what they had, but he took only a small bit from each of them, thanking them because he knew what a sacrifice they were making.

"Is there anything else we can do do to help, sir?" asked Manafort.

"I just need some real sleep," he admitted. "Oh, yes, there's one other thing. Morris?"

"Cap?" Morris stepped forward.

"Can you do me a favour and get word to the women's camp? Let Mrs. Beazley know how grateful I am for her singing."

Morris gave him a toothy grin. "Will do. Good to have you back, sir."

"And Morris, next time you tell me something's too dangerous, I think I'd better listen to you."


	9. Chapter 9

Following Doctor Blake's release from the "hole", Jean's days became much the same as they had been before. While she would never wish such torment on the doctor or anyone else, she admitted to herself that she missed the whole process of singing for him. It had been a highlight of her day, plus she had enjoyed thinking about which song to sing as she worked in the garden each day. She was reluctant, however, to admit that the singing had made her feel a connection to the man, and she missed that connection most of all.

Each time she went outside, she glanced over toward the soldiers' camp, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, telling herself she was concerned for his health. But whatever his condition, she saw no sign of him. Even the Aussies' weekly football match did not bring him out to watch.

In her mind she saw him confined to his thin pallet, too weak to feed himself or see to his own needs. She included him in her nightly prayers. When Evelyn relayed his message of thanks to her, she blushed in embarrassment. But deep down she felt proud of herself and her ability to help him.

While he had been confined, the hyper-vigilance of the guards had lessened. Perhaps it was the fact that he had not been trying to escape when he was apprehended, or maybe they felt his punishment was a sufficient deterrent to the others, but whatever the reason, nightly visits between the various camps had been deemed worth the risk once again. Jean knew that Evelyn went outside the fence each night to meet up with her Harry, and Ruth Dempster was seeing her husband Ben regularly. She wondered if she ought to risk a visit to check on the doctor's condition, but flashbacks to her attack promptly made her realize it was a bad idea.

She was working in her garden in the late afternoon, with the sounds of the children's soccer match from out front making her smile.

"Mum! Mum!" came Christopher's voice. She hurried toward it, thinking Jack must have been injured in the rough play, but Christopher ran right up to her. "Mum, I thought you'd want to know Doctor Blake is sitting outside," he whispered.

"Really?" said Jean. She wiped her hands on the old, worn out dress she had converted into a gardening apron, then followed as Christopher tugged at her hand to show her.

As she rounded the corner of the building so she could see, she spotted him in the doorway of the barracks one shoulder propping him against the door frame. He still looked painfully gaunt, but he must have spotted her at the same moment. He lifted a hand in greeting, which she quickly returned, a bright smile on her face. Communication between the various camps was forbidden, so she didn't dare any more than that. It was enough though. He seemed to be recovering, which was all she needed to know.

She considered singing, but in order for him to hear it from that distance she would have to be very loud. She didn't think it was a good idea to bring that kind of attention to either of them. Still it was nice to just sit there and exchange glances and smiles for a time.

She was just about to wave to him again and return to her gardening when a dozen guards carrying shovels emerged from their barracks and marched toward the Australian soldiers' camp. Jean's heart was in her throat. What now?

* * *

Lucien had awakened from a nap, feeling somewhat renewed. Due to Henry's care, the wounds on his back were no longer infected and had begun to heal. He decided it was well past time to return to his duties of commanding the camp. He climbed carefully to his feet, his legs unsteady from lack of use as much as anything. Most of the men were watching him so he took his time, trying to look like he was casually strolling to the water bucket. A long drink seemed to fortify him further.

"Right, then," he said, rubbing his hands together. "Report, Lieutenant Manifold."

"Nothing of consequence, sir. The guards are back to their old routine. No new injuries or illnesses of note. Evans is back on his feet. Captain Alderton is, well..."

"Captain Alderton is and always will be Captain Alderton. Thank you, Lieutenant. Any word from Selerang?"

Harold Morris stepped forward. "I was talking with a bloke from there last night. They have a working radio now."

"Really," said Lucien. "Any news of how the war is going?"

"Yes, Cap, and it's good. The Yank navy just scored a big victory in the Philippines Sea. Wiped out a good part of the Jap Air Force and several of their big ships were sunk. Yanks have landed in the Philippines now."

A cheer went up.

"They're getting closer," Lucien noted.

"Yes, sir, but the bad news is the Japs are starting to send out work parties from the camps. Word is they're being used to dig trenches and foxholes for when the Allies invade. No real info since none of them ever come back."

"Thank you, Morris. Please keep me appraised of any further news."

"Will do, Cap."

Lucien made his way slowly to the door, but Henry stopped him, holding out a uniform shirt. "You haven't been out in the sun for a while, sir. You don't need sunburn, especially on your back."

"You're quite right. Thank you." He donned the shirt, buttoning it all the way up.

Once outside, he lowered himself to the ground. He could see the children in the women's camp playing their makeshift game of soccer. Hearing their shouts and laughter, feeling the sunlight on his face, Lucien felt truly alive for the first time in weeks. And to make the day even better, he saw Mrs. Beazley appear. He waved to her, making no attempt to hide the big smile that split his face.

She returned the wave, and the two of them sat gazing at each other, content in the moment.

Finally she made a move to get up. Surely she had better things to do with her time, no matter how reluctant he was to see her leave.

But before he had time to reflect on what that might actually mean, he saw a wave of guards appear. They were carrying shovels and headed straight towards the soldiers' camp and Lucien. As they moved through the gate, he stood to face them. Two dozen of his men were immediately behind him to back him up.

He would have preferred to discuss it with Maeda, who seemed the most reasonable of all the guards, but military protocol required him to address the senior man, a rather overweight and slovenly sergeant.

"What is this?" he inquired, using a clipped and arrogant tone he seldom employed.

"Soldiers will dig," the sergeant told him, holding out a shovel.

"Dig what?" Lucien demanded.

"Dig trench. Now." He motioned to the other guards, who each walked up to a soldier, handed him a shovel, then pushed him away from the barracks building and into line.

Lucien's first instinct was to insist on going with them, but that seemed almost more foolhardy than his foray into the storehouse. He knew that in his current condition he wouldn't last half an hour marching and even less digging. He looked around, seeking a way to help his men, when he spotted Colonel Suga standing at his office window, watching the proceedings. It was common knowledge that Suga made himself scarce when there was brutality to be meted out, so perhaps this wasn't what it seemed.

The men in line were looking to him for a cue. He decided to take a chance and trust Suga. With that in mind, he nodded to the men, indicating they should go along for now.

They were marched through the camp gate and across the parade ground, but were halted before they reached the outer gate that opened onto the road. Lucien was even more confused about what was intended. They stood about twenty feet from the fence around the women's camp, and there they were ordered to start digging. The sergeant took one of the shovels and used it to draw a long line in the dirt. The men were to dig their trench the length of that line.

With horror, Lucien recalled the trench that had been dug by the four would-be escapees of Selerang. The trench had turned out to be their grave. Surely Suga wasn't planning to execute these men directly in front of the women, and especially the children!

He looked again toward Suga, who was nodding with what appeared to be a benign, paternal smile on his face. If not a grave, then what was it for?

It soon became clear that the trench was only to be two or three feet deep, hardly enough for a grave or even an effective fortification. To bury something else? In plain sight? That made no sense either.

He continued to keep watch over the men who were digging, hoping he'd made the right decision in allowing them to go without protest. They dug almost in silence, clearly as confused and apprehensive as Lucien was.

It took hours, but the sergeant finally seemed satisfied with their progress. The guards retrieved the shovels and escorted the men back to their camp.

"What was that all about?" Morris grumbled, picking at the callouses on his hands.

"I have absolutely no idea," said Lucien. "My guess is we'll find out soon enough."

* * *

As the soldiers began to dig, the guards being so near to the camp terrified Jack. He retreated inside, whimpering in fear. Jean longed to stay outside to find out what was going on, but her first duty was to her son. She hurried after him, sweeping him into her arms and letting him bury his face against her chest. She smoothed a hand against his his back to soothe him.

"I hate those men!" he told her.

Her religion told her she should remind him it was wrong to hate anyone, but he was only a child, one who'd had so much of his childhood stolen by those very men. Now didn't seem to be the right time for a sermon on tolerance. Instead she just held him and murmured softly to him.

Sister Bernadette came inside to check on them.

"He'll be fine as soon as the guards aren't quite so close," Jean assured her. "What's going on out there?"

"Still digging a trench of some kind."

"Why? And why so close to our camp?" asked Jean.

"No one knows. Mrs. Toohey is concerned it will be a grave, but surely not. It isn't very deep."

"Is Doctor Blake...?"

"Digging?" Sister Bernadette asked. "No, he's watching from their camp. He seems just as puzzled as the rest of us."

Jack raised his head and looked up at Jean. "Maybe it's going to be a moat. Like castles have."

Jean smiled at him, kissing his forehead. "Wouldn't that be something?"

"To keep the guards away," Jack said firmly. In his mind, the moat was a great idea.

"I wonder..." Jean said slowly.

"What is is it?" asked the nun.

"Maybe Jack is right in a way." She recalled seeing Colonel Suga watching and nodding. He did not seem to be a cruel man, even if he wasn't particularly courageous. Maybe this was something good he was doing for the people held in his camps. The fact of its location made sense only if it was to separate the women and children from the others. Could it possibly be?

* * *

Lucien didn't get much sleep that night, worrying about the significance of that bloody trench. Every time he tried to change position, his still-healing back protested, while his mind continued to work at the question.

By morning he had long given up any attempt to sleep, choosing instead to sit in the doorway and stare at the bloody thing. He watched the camp come alive with the rising sun and hoped the day would provide some answers.

He didn't have long to wait. As soon as the guards had completed their morning changeover in shifts, Colonel Suga came out of his office carrying a bullhorn. He strode to the center of the parade ground and announced, "Ladies and gentlemen."

Then he waited for the camps to empty as everyone came outside to hear what he had to say. When he was satisfied that he had an attentive audience he continued. "Today is the Japanese festival Tanabata. In honour of the holiday, all men, women and childrens will be allowed to see each other and talk. No touching, just talking. Thirty minutes."

He nodded to the guards to unlock the individual camp gates.

So the trench was to separate the men physically from the women and children. Lucien knew immediately that this gesture had nothing to do with the holiday and everything to do with public relations. It now seemed only a matter of time until the Allies came to liberate the prisoners, and Suga was looking to rehabilitate his reputation before that happened. Regardless, Lucien would take advantage of the situation to thank Mrs. Beazley for saving his sanity, and very possibly his life.


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's Note: I apologize that this chapter is so short, but strangely, it was the most difficult for me to write so far. As much as I love these characters, I still feel like I don't handle romance very well. And once again, thank you to all who've taken the time to comment. I want to recognize all the guests in particular, since I can't thank you personally._

* * *

Jean heard Suga's announcement and immediately looked toward the soldiers' camp, trying to catch the eye of Lucien Blake. He looked toward her as well, smiling, before he turned to address his troops.

"Many of the women have husbands and boyfriends in the civilian men's camp," he reminded them. "I know you're all going to respect that, aren't you?" he said in a tone that brooked no argument.

"Sir."

"Good. Unless you know one of the ladies," he looked at Morris, "I expect you to let the civilians go first. If any women are then unattached, you can speak with them. With courtesy."

Some of the men weren't particularly happy, not having spoken with a women in two years or more, but they accepted his direction. Fisticuffs over the women only meant this would never be allowed again.

When the guards finally opened the gates, many of the women rushed out. Jean noted that Susan Tyneman was among the first outside, hurrying to see her husband Patrick, who looked quite unwell. Both he and son Edward had lost a great deal of weight, as had Susan herself, for that matter.

She saw Evelyn meet up with a rather small man with thinning dark hair. Harry, she assumed.

"Let's go out, Mum," Jack said tugging on her hand. The guards were stationed well back, allowing the boy to not feel threatened by them.

Christopher took her other hand, and between them she was steered in the direction of the soldiers' camp. Lucien was already moving toward them.

He too had looked to see Morris meet up with his Evy, a woman who looked entirely humourless. There was no accounting for taste, he thought. But there, waiting for _him,_ was the entirely lovely Mrs. Beazley with her two sons.

He stopped directly opposite them, the trench in between. "Mrs. Beazley, Christopher, Jack," he said, nodding to them. "How is everyone?"

"We're fine now," Jean said, smiling brightly.

"I hurt my finger playing soccer," Jack announced, holding it up for the doctor's inspection.

"Well, we can't have that," said Lucien. "It isn't broken, is it? That would mean no soccer for a while. Can you move it?"

Jack nodded and demonstrated. "It's not broken. I can still play."

"That's good. I watched you play, and it looked like your side needs you." He turned to Christopher. "And what about you, young man? All good with you?"

"Yes, sir," said Christopher, looking up at his mother for verification.

Jean put her arm around his shoulders. "He's always a wonderful help for me, and a good brother to Jack." _Sometimes spending so much time watching over us that I worry about him if we ever get released from here,_ Jean thought.

She studied the doctor now that she could see him up close for the first time since his ordeal. "How are you, Doctor?" she asked.

"Please, call me Lucien," he said, hoping she felt comfortable enough with him to do so. "I'm much better, thank you."

"That's good to hear, Lucien," she said, smiling at the way such a small intimacy made her feel. "And I'm Jean."

"Well, Jean, I want you to know just how much your singing meant to me while I was...". He nodded in the direction of the hole in the ground. "Every time I thought I might lose heart and give up, I knew I still had something to look forward to each day: your lovely voice."

Jean blushed. Such heartfelt praise was rare and always embarrassed her. "After how kind you've been to us, I thought it was the least I could do."

"It was a great deal, may well have saved my life," he insisted, but seeing he was embarrassing her, he did not continue.

"Bingo was my idea," Jack piped up. "It's my favourite song."

"You know, it's become one of mine, too," Lucien told the boy, remembering what it meant when he heard it. "What about you, Christopher?"

"I like a lot of songs when Mum sings them," said Christopher.

Jean rested a hand on her older son's shoulder. "Over the Rainbow was his choice," she told Lucien.

"Another fine song," Lucien agreed.

He and Jean gazed at each other, both wanting to say more, but the presence of the boys made it difficult.

Their dilemma was solved a moment later when Eve Neville came by, rounding up the children for a soccer match to show off their skills. Jean knew exactly why she was really doing it: to give their parents a bit of privacy. "Bless you," she whispered to Eve, who only smiled back at her.

Jean and Lucien stood so they could see the children playing but also look at each other.

"Have you heard any news about the war?" Jean asked, after casting around for an opening comment.

"I have, yes," said Lucien. "The Allies recently won an important sea battle and are slowly working their way in our direction, but it will still be a while before they can reach us. Several months at least."

"What about Australia? Did it fall to the Japanese?" asked Jean, thinking in particular of her sister's family there.

"No, it was never invaded. In fact, Victoria was never even bombed," Lucien assured her. "I think the Japanese commanders realized their supply lines were already stretched too thin to go any farther." He paused. "Will you go back home, back to Ballarat, when we're finally liberated?"

Jean sighed. "To tell you the truth, I haven't thought that far ahead. I suppose so. There's nothing for me in Borneo now, but there isn't much in Ballarat either, aside from my sister and her children. What about you?"

"I'm regular Army, so I'll have to follow orders, but my top priority will be to locate my daughter. She's about Jack's age, and I have no idea where she is." Tears rose up in his eyes at the thought of his darling girl and all the things that could have happened to her.

"Yes, of course," said Jean, her heart aching for him. "I can hardly imagine how difficult that must be for you."

"Yes, and once I find her and I'm free of the Army, well, I haven't thought that far ahead either. We make quite a pair, don't we?"

"We do," said Jean, and they shared a smile. "Now that it looks like we will actually be liberated sooner or later, though, I guess it's time to start thinking about what comes after. You don't plan to go back home and see your father?"

Lucien blinked. "You know my father?"

"I know _of_ him," said Jean.

"Yes, of course. I'm afraid my father and I had a falling out several years ago. We haven't really communicated since then."

"But surely now, after this," she waved a hand around her to indicate the prison compound, "your differences, whatever they were... well they can't seem that important."

Lucien smiled softly at her. Jean, with that generous spirit of hers, might find it difficult to understand a man who could send his only son off on his own at such a young age and in such a fragile state, but then again, maybe the war might have changed his father too. "Perhaps you're right," he told her. "Once I find my daughter, maybe I'll introduce her to her grandfather."

"Do consider it," Jean urged him. "For all of your sakes."

"If you'll consider going back there, too. I'm sure your sister is concerned for you as well," said Lucien. He grinned. "Maybe we could even meet up in good old Ballarat. I could take you out for dinner."

"The good people of Ballarat would be scandalized if the doctor's son was seen stepping out with the farmer's daughter," Jean pointed out. She could just hear the gossip.

He borrowed her own words. "Surely after this," he swept his hand around them, "those differences can't seem that important."

She laughed. "You haven't spent much time in Ballarat, have you?" She nodded toward the Tynemans, thinking what Susan would say about it.

"Well, they can all go to blazes then," he told her. "I would be proud to be seen out with you, Jean Beazley." He gazed into her eyes, marveling at their beauty and the spirit behind them.

"Well, I suppose it'll give us something to look forward to, if we ever get out of here," said Jean.

"You mean, when we get out of here," Lucien corrected. "It won't be soon, but I'm convinced it will happen."

"All right, then, _when_ we get out of here, it's a date," said Jean.

Lucien continued to gaze at her, smiling, and she gazed back, just as entranced.

Remembering himself and where they were, he finally looked away, glancing instead to where the children were playing. He pointed to get Jean's attention, just as Christopher squeezed between two defenders and sent the "ball" directly to Jack in front of the goal for an easy score.

"Bravo!" he shouted to them. "Well done!"

It made Jean extremely happy to see how much he seemed to take to the boys. She prayed he could be reunited with his daughter quickly when the war ended. She was sure he was a wonderful father.

All too soon, the guards announced that everyone must return to their own camps.

Hurriedly, Lucien said, "Could we meet some night, beyond the fence, just to talk a little more?"

Jean longed to agree to to his request, but wasn't sure she could brave her fears of being attacked again. "I don't... I'm afraid I..."

He understood at once. "I'm sorry, of course. Let me think about it, all right? See if I can come up with something that will put your fears to rest."

She could only nod. She did want to talk with him some more. Much more.

And then she was collecting the boys while he rounded up his men.

They both glanced over their shoulders to exchange one final look before going inside.


	11. Chapter 11

_1944 October_

The Allied advances continued slowly, with the Japanese fiercely contesting each island, each nautical mile, each patch of ground. Losses were heavy on both sides, but there were notable Allied victories in India, in Burma, in the Philippines. As word of these victories spread through the camps, morale improved among the prisoners. How much longer would it be before they were freed?

The guards were on edge, growing grimmer as the prisoners brightened. Food rations were cut back, from barely enough to live on to less than that. It was rumoured that the Japanese frontline troops required the extra food to keep fighting.

In the women's camp, many of the mothers had little choice but to share a portion of their own inadequate supplies to supplement that of their children, and the nuns also insisted that the children get some of theirs. The produce from Jean's garden became vital to the lives of all. She wondered what might lay beyond the fence that could help them survive, often consulting Christopher's survival manual and thinking of the possibilities just out of reach. If only she had the courage...

Colonel Suga, who had probably had little say over the ration cutbacks, seemed eager to continue his image rehabilitation. He announced that all internees would be allowed to send a postcard to let family know that they were being "well-treated" by their captors. Most took advantage of the opportunity, if only to broadcast that they were still alive.

Since her conversation with Lucien, Jean had more or less decided that Ballarat would be their destination when they were liberated. Best contact her sister, then, let her know. Mary had always been the practical type, so she might be able to help Jean find a way to support herself and the boys there.

She inscribed Mary's address in the designated space, reflecting yet again on their parents' lack of imagination in names. Jean Mary and Mary Jean. How ordinary, compared to something like 'Lucien', she thought.

She struggled for some time about what to put in the message area. Such a small space for all that she needed to say. She was certain the guards would censor anything about the location or the poor condition of those in the camps. She might better stick to family matters. Like Jean herself, Mary was a widow with two small children.

Dear Mary,

I hope that you and the children are well. I pray that someday soon my boys will have a chance to play with Danny and Amy in your garden once more while we trade recipes and mend their clothes. Please tell the Tynemans that Patrick, Susan and Edward are in the camp too, and let Dr. Blake know his son Lucien is here as well.

Much love to all of you,

Jean, Christopher Jr, and Jack

There, that should assure Mary they were still alive, and maybe remind her of some of Jean's skills that could be useful to an employer. Perhaps a job as a housekeeper somewhere? She wondered if the Tynemans would return to Ballarat after the war. Patrick had always been kind to her and the boys, although she wondered how Susan would feel about having Jean (who had seen her at her worst) being in her home every day. If nothing better presented itself, she supposed she could always get something in one of Patrick's father's many enterprises.

Luckily Lucien would have no such difficulty, she knew, even after he left the Army and found his daughter. As a doctor, he could set up a practice anywhere and be welcomed into the community, or go to work in any hospital. Jean wondered if he had a specialty, thinking what a wonderful children's doctor he would be, or perhaps an obstetrician bringing babies into the world.

She shook herself out of her daydreams. There was work to do, especially now with the shortage of food. She handed over her completed postcard and headed out to tend to the garden.

* * *

Lucien stared at the blank postcard for quite some time. He supposed he needed to send it to his father, but pondered how to break the ice after so many years of silence. But he had told Jean he would meet up with her in Ballarat after the war ended, so this would have to be the first step toward making that happen.

Most likely his father wasn't aware of the death of Mei Lin, who had been the point of contention in that last, bitter argument between them, nor did he know about the very existence of sweet little Li. But this postcard was hardly the appropriate vehicle to deliver news about either of them. No, this should be a 'simple' reconnection of son to father. The rest could wait.

Dear Father,

I don't know what word you've had of me, but I'm very much alive as a guest of the Japanese Imperial Army. When the hostilities end, I have some duties to see to, but then I would very much like to visit you. I hope we can reach a measure of peace between us. There are some others from Ballarat here, the Tynemans and the Beazleys. Jean Beazley has been very kind to me, so any kindness you can do for her when she returns would be most appreciated.

Your son,

Lucien Blake

He had seen that Jean worried about her future and how she might support herself and the boys. He hoped a good word on her behalf from his father might ease her path somewhat.

He reread what he had written, decided it said all he needed to convey, and placed it in the fast-growing pile of completed cards. He then looked to see which of the men might be struggling over the task. There were a few he suspected of being functionally illiterate, but their families surely were just as anxious as those of the other men. He went to help, noticing that Henry and a few others were assisting as well. He really had some remarkable men under his command. He would have to be sure they were recognized officially once the war ended.

* * *

When the post arrived, Danny Parks brought it inside to put on the kitchen table for his mother. As he walked into the kitchen, he spotted his sister Amy snitching biscuits from the tin. "I'm going to tell mum," he threatened.

"What are you, a copper?" Amy demanded, her eyes blazing with defiance.

"Maybe I will be when I grow up," Danny said breezily. He enjoyed winding up his sister, even if she was such an easy target.

"You probably will. You're such a little...". She broke off when their mother entered the room.

"The post is here," Danny told her.

"I see. Thank you, sweetheart." Mary kissed the top of his blond head, then began sorting through the envelopes and other items.

When she first spotted the postcard, she wondered who could have sent it. No one went on holiday since the war began. Then she recognized her sister's handwriting. With a gasp, she sank into a chair. The government had informed her that Jean and her boys had most likely been taken prisoner when Borneo fell. This confirmed that at least they were still alive.

She read it through twice, while Amy and Danny watched with trepidation.

"It's from your Auntie Jean," she told them.

"Is she all right?" asked Amy.

"What about Chris and Jack?" Danny wanted to know.

"She says they're all okay. When the war is over, they'll come home."

"For good?" Amy asked. She liked Auntie Jean.

"I can't tell for sure, but most likely," said Mary.

"Then I can play with Chris and Jack again," Danny said.

"Yes, she says she wants to see that," said Mary. "She says Mr. and Mrs. Tyneman and Edward are there too."

"Huh. I don't want to play with Edward," Danny said firmly. "He's mean."

"I don't think you need to worry about that," Mary assured him. Surely Susan Tyneman wouldn't let her little prince associate with the likes of the Parks and Beazley children in any case. Nevertheless, Mary felt obligated to carry out her sister's request to notify Michael and Roslyn Tyneman, and also Doctor Blake.

"All right, you lot, faces and hands washed, hair combed. We're going into town," she announced.

She found the elder Mr. Tyneman somewhat intimidating, but Mrs. Tyneman was quite a pleasant woman. Roslyn had come from somewhat humble circumstances, marrying Micheal before he began his rapid ascent within the ranks of local businessmen. Mary thought she would call on Mrs. Tyneman at home, assuming they hadn't yet moved into the imposing new estate house Michael was building outside of town. Then she would continue on to Doctor Blake's residence on Mycroft Avenue. At least she had been there before - he had treated Danny when her son had managed to break his arm falling out of a tree. She thought the man somewhat stern, not given much to smiling but not unkind.

As they approached the Tyneman home, Mary looked at her children, particularly Amy. "Best behaviour," she reminded them. "Don't touch anything."

Danny smirked at his sister knowingly while she just rolled her eyes.

Mrs. Tyneman answered the door herself, looking startled to see them but quickly covering it.

"Hello, Mrs. Parks," she greeted them. "How is everyone today?"

"Fine, thank you for asking. I'm sorry to bother you, but I've just had a card from my sister and she asked me to relay a message."

"Oh, yes, she was in Borneo, too, wasn't she? I just received word from Patrick as well. Heavily censored so I couldn't make out much of what he was trying to say."

"Jean asked me to let you and Mr. Tyneman know that Patrick, Susan and Edward are there in the same camp with her."

"Thank the Lord they are all still alive," said Mrs. Tyneman, looking genuinely relieved. Whatever Patrick had been trying to tell her had obviously not been enough to reassure her. "Your sister and her children are all right?"

"So it seems. Thank you for asking," said Mary.

"No, Mrs. Parks, thank _you_ for letting me know about my son's family. Of course, we won't stop worrying until they're all safely home, will we? Would you all like to come in for tea?"

Mary didn't think it was a good idea to let her children wander around the Tynemans' delicate and very expensive antiques. "Maybe another time, thank you," she said. "We have another call to make."

"At least let me get some biscuits for the children to take with them. Fresh out of the oven."

"That would be lovely," said Mary, making a mental note to check their faces for rogue crumbs before they saw Doctor Blake.

* * *

Thomas Blake had just shown out his final surgery patient of the day and walked toward the kitchen, hoping his elderly housekeeper, Mrs. Trent, had remembered to put the kettle on for his tea. As he passed through, he saw her studying the post that apparently had just arrived. She seemed to be reading a card so intently that she hadn't heard him approach. He sighed. It was past time he replaced her, but with the war on, any women willing to work outside the home preferred the higher-paying factory jobs. Maybe when the war ended and the soldiers returned to take those factory jobs he could find someone more competent than Mrs. Trent.

He sighed. Thoughts of the war inevitably turned to Lucien. He prayed for his son each night, prayed that he was safe and hoping he might come home when it was over. If only he had held his tongue about Lucien's choice to marry the Chinese girl. He had only wanted to spare the boy the kind of heartache he'd felt when his own father cut him off for marrying his beloved Gèneviève, but instead he'd mimicked his father's very words. So many mistakes he'd made with Lucien. Would he ever have the chance to make amends for any of them or had he already lost him, in body as well as in heart?

Clearing his throat, he held out a hand. With a furtive, guilty look on her face, Mrs. Trent handed over the pile of envelopes, cards and catalogues. "Thank you," he said, trying not to sound too disapproving.

"I'll just see to your tea," she replied, shuffling toward the kitchen.

Thomas began leafing through the stack, mostly related to his practice. His heart leapt into his throat, though, when he saw the card from Lucien. _Thank God he's still alive_ , was his first, heartfelt reaction. The Army had notified him that Lucien was missing and presumed captured after the fall of Singapore. He could barely imagine his willful and free-spirited son as a prisoner or war.

Dropping the rest of the post, he read the card hungrily for any news of the boy. It seemed that whatever he'd been through, Lucien was now almost as anxious as Thomas to mend the rift between them. He would welcome him home with open arms, his wife as well, if she were with him. It concerned Thomas, though, that Lucien had not mentioned his wife. Had they been separated by the war? Perhaps that was one of the 'duties' he needed to see to before he could come home.

He continued reading the card. He should make sure Michael Tyneman knew that his son's family was safe. And Jean Beazley. Trust Lucien to befriend a young woman even in the most dire circumstances. He tried to recall who she was. Ah, yes, Jean Randall, who had married Jack Beazley's younger son, since deceased. A pretty girl, and quite smart, as he remembered. Lucien's taste in women had certainly improved since the time he'd nearly proposed to the bitter, self-centered Monika Parker.

Whatever their relationship, Thomas would be happy to help out Jean Beazley if he could. He supposed any act of kindness in such a place deserved to be respected.

Mrs. Trent had just informed him that his tea was ready when there was a knock at the front door. "I'll get it," he called out, still holding Lucien's card in his hand. It was precious to him now, in its promise of a chance at reconciliation.

He opened the door, recognizing Mrs. Parks. If he recalled correctly, she was Jean Beazley's sister. Coincidence?

"Mrs. Parks, good afternoon. What can I do for you?"

"Good afternoon, Doctor. I won't keep you."

"Quite all right. Why don't you and the little ones come in? You look like you could do with some tea and biscuits."

"That's very kind of you, Doctor, thank you."

When they were all seated in the kitchen with their tea, and Mrs. Trent hovering nearby (both ears wide open, presumably), Thomas said once again, "Now what can I do for you?"

"I've heard from my sister, Jean. Jean Beazley," Mary began.

Thomas smiled at her. "As it turns out, I've just heard from my son Lucien, too. It seems the two of them know each other."

"Yes, it seems so," Mary agreed. "I'm happy you've heard from your son. Jean wanted to be sure you knew that he was alive."

"Lucien mentioned that she was very kind, and apparently he's quite right. Thank you for your trouble, Mrs. Parks."

"No trouble at all, Doctor. I was so relieved to hear from Jean that I didn't want anyone else to worry needlessly about their loved ones. I've just been to see Mrs. Tyneman, too."

"Then you've saved me a trip," said Thomas. "Thank you. If I hear anything further from Lucien or anyone else about your sister, I'll be sure to pass it along to you. And, Mrs. Parks, when your sister returns home, and I'm quite sure she will, please ask her to stop by to see me, if you would."

* * *

Author's note: I'm sorry there isn't more of Jean and Lucien in this chapter, but I needed to set the stage for some future occurences. Much more of them in the next one, I promise.


	12. Chapter 12

1944 December

As Christmas approached, Jean often thought back to the first few holidays she'd celebrated after her marriage. With a regular paycheck coming in once Christopher had joined the Army, and with the arrival of their two sons, they had gone all out for the festive season. Towers of gifts all around, decorations everywhere, and of course bountiful food for everyone. She knew that Jack barely remembered those celebrations, but she was sure young Christopher recalled them as wistfully as Jean herself did, even though he never spoke of it. Her elder son was as practical as his mother, knowing better than to wish for what was clearly impossible.

She decided she would try to make some simple toys to give the boys, to be sure the day did not pass unnoticed. Sock puppets, perhaps? She recalled that she still had some valuables hidden inside Jack's stuffed bear, but there was nothing really to buy at this point. No extra food or medicine anywhere in the camp that hadn't already changed hands and been used up at some point.

To make matters worse, two days before Christmas when the guards brought the evening food, they announced that rations had been cut once again. The nightly meal would now be the only one. All the protests, even those of mothers worried that their children would starve, fell on deaf ears. Jean tried not to blame the guards, knowing they had no say in the matter, but she realized that even with her garden there wouldn't be enough to feed everyone. She could till more space, but even if she had the hands to plant more, the crops wouldn't be edible in time to help. Once again, she wondered what edible treasures lay beyond the fences. Somehow she would have to find the courage to explore out there or watch her boys starve.

* * *

The soldiers were furious when they received news of the cut to rations. They were close to rioting. Lucien insisted on speaking with Colonel Suga to discuss the matter, but to no one's surprise, the colonel happened to be away for the week. That meant any violent displays on the part of the prisoners would be met with even more violent reprisals from the guards.

Lucien ordered his men inside to discuss their options.

"What options?" Norman Baker demanded once they were assembled. "Seems our options are to starve or get shot."

"Go get yerself shot then," Morris muttered. Baker was known to be a coward and a malcontent, always blaming others for everything that befell him.

Lucien held up his hands for quiet. "The women have a patch for growing plants to supplement their diet."

"Civilian men do too," Morris added.

"Well, then, any of you lot done any farming?" asked Lucien.

"Just harvesting, not planting," said Private Colin Doyle, and a few men nodded that it was the same for them.

Private Manos spoke up. "I've grown flowers. My father has a greenhouse. It can't be all that different, can it?"

"Well, Nick, it looks like you'll be in charge of our garden," said Lucien, clapping him on the shoulder.

"One problem, Cap. We don't have anything to plant," Manos pointed out.

"You leave that to me," said Lucien. "I know just the expert to consult on this matter."

* * *

Jean stood in the doorway, looking out into the darkness that was broken only occasionally by a sweep from the guard tower lights. She was disappointed in herself. She had always considered that she was brave enough to do whatever needed to be done, especially for her family. But the thought of going out into that darkness conjured up all-too-real images of being grabbed and struck by someone she couldn't see, only feel and smell. She shivered, trying to banish the flashback.

She was just about to move back inside, defeated yet again, when Ruth, who had left moments before to meet up with her husband, suddenly returned.

"Jean, Doctor Blake is just around the corner," Ruth told her. "He wants to speak with you. What do you want me to tell him?"

She froze. Doctor Blake, _Lucien,_ who'd gone through hell for doing God knew what, had risked going through that again or worse to talk to her. How could she ignore that or him? And if she was with him, she knew he could protect her. She suspected he would literally risk his life to keep her or anyone else in his care safe from harm.

"You go see Ben," Jean told Ruth. "I'll speak with Doctor Blake."

"Are you sure? I think he'll understand if you can't."

"I'm sure. Go. Ben's waiting."

Ruth was only too happy to comply.

Jean paused a moment to ask Eve to keep an eye on the boys, then took a deep breath and walked out into the darkness. Almost immediately, even before her panic could set in, he was standing in front of her, his blue eyes gleaming. Those eyes were like none other she had ever seen, and they were enough to calm her considerably.

He leaned in close to whisper to her. She could smell him: perspiration, of course, from the heat and the lack of bathing facilities, but something else, an essence that was just him. She breathed it in deeply. It was so very different than the reek of the guard Bruiser that she found it reassuring.

"Are you all right, Jean?" he whispered.

"Yes, I think so," she replied.

"Good." His teeth glistened in the moonlight as he smiled at her. "Do you feel up to a trip beyond the fence so we can talk? If not, we can just move out of the reach of the searchlights and speak very quietly."

Jean decided that if she had managed to come this far into the darkness, she wasn't going to miss a chance to go out into the jungle to explore. "I'm fine," she insisted. "Let's go."

"Just hold onto my hand," he urged her. "Squeeze it or give a sharp tug if we need to stop for any reason."

She took his hand and immediately squeezed it. "Like this?" she asked teasingly.

Again he smiled. "Yes, exactly like that."

He led the way back to the fence, where he had to release her hand. "I'll go first," he whispered, "make sure it's clear, then reach back for you. Will that be all right?"

She nodded, immediately missing the warm reassurance of his grip. Watching, she saw him drop down onto his back and wriggle beneath the barrier. She felt a brief moment of panic again while he was out of sight, but then his hand appeared, extending toward her, and she clenched it between both of hers. A moment later he had pulled her up to join him.

He put a finger to his lips to indicate quiet, then gently pressed her back out of the path of the searching lights. When the light had swept past their position, they crouched and ran until the jungle's undergrowth concealed them. He kept on going, his hand still in hers, until he seemed to feel they were out of earshot of the guards. He looked around, and then, satisfied, he turned to her. "All right?"

"Yes, I'm fine. You?"

"Top notch," he assured her. "But let's keep walking, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind in the slightest." She swung their still-joined hands.

He seemed to have a destination in mind, and she thought she would wait until they reached it to really talk with him.

Lucien slowed suddenly, and again put a finger to his lips as he crouched low. At that moment she heard it too, soft voices up ahead. She couldn't make out the words at first and then realized they were speaking in another language, but it didn't sound like Japanese. Local people, perhaps?

All smiles, Lucien stood up, still holding her hand. She stood with him, and together they moved forward and he quietly greeted the newcomers, obviously people he knew. They seemed to be a family, and Lucien addressed them in their own language before switching back to English.

"Jean Beazley, may I introduce the Leong family, old friends that I haven't seen in far too long."

"Hello," Jean said hesitantly.

Mr. Leong nodded. "Hello."

"I haven't seen them since before the Selerang incident," Lucien explained. "I'm so happy to see them all again and looking so well."

"Guards not so many now," said Mr. Leong. "Safer. We have been hoping to meet you again, Doctor."

"The Leongs, especially Mama Leong," he smiled at the older woman, "know all about the local plants. What's good for eating, what medicinal properties they have."

"Perfect," said Jean. That was exactly the kind of knowledge she needed.

"Mrs. Beazley has a garden inside the camp," Lucien told Mr. Leong. "We need to start something similar for the soldiers. The Japanese have just cut our rations. Not enough food now."

"And I need to add more types of plants to my garden," Jean explained.

Lucien began to chat to "Mama" Leong in her own tongue, presumably repeating the details of their situation.

The older woman smiled and nodded at Jean, then motioned for her to sit down. Lucien sat beside her to translate as Mama opened the sack she carried and began pulling out the contents.

The first item was covered with hairy tendrils, kind of like a small, red coconut. Jean had no idea what to do with it.

"It's called a rambutan," Lucien told her. They both watched as Mama pulled out a knife and split open the husk to reveal a silvery white fruit inside. She split it in half and gave each of them a portion to try.

Jean watched Lucien pop the whole piece into his mouth, seed and all, as with his eyes he urged her to try it. She did, and was glad she had. The fruit was delicious, just slightly acidic and reminding her of the taste of grapes. The seed in the center was nutty and just as delicious.

"That's wonderful, thank you," said Jean. "My boys will love these. How do they grow?"

Lucien translated her question and the response. "They grow on trees, too big to plant in your garden, I'm afraid."

Mama pointed out several of the trees and spoke again.

Again Lucien translated. "They're all around here, though, so we can pick them ourselves. I might add, they would also seem to have vitamins we haven't been getting."

"Then we should definitely pick some before we go back," said Jean.

Mama again reached into her sack and pulled out a variety of plants, and for the next hour she and Jean discussed what might be suited to her garden and how to care for the various plants. Lucien patiently translated until the two women seemed to develop their own method of communication. Then he moved to the side to speak with Mr. Leong but stillremaining within sight of her as Jean and Mama continued discussing plants. Mama helped Jean to dig up several species that she could replant easily and that were close to harvesting.

By the time Lucien walked back to see how they were doing, Jean felt she had enough to keep them going for a while, certainly more than she had expected.

She tried to thank the other woman, but Mama waved it off. Lucien explained that Mama felt it her duty to pass along the wisdom she had acquired.

"Then I should pass this on to the other camps as well," said Jean. "Who will be handling the garden for your men, Lucien? Not you?"

"Definitely not me," said Lucien, grinning. "We'd all starve even quicker. Private Manos has volunteered. Maybe tomorrow night I'll bring him out with me and you can talk to him? Would that be all right?"

"Yes, I think so."

They both turned to the Leongs to thank them, and Mr. Leong and Mama held out their sacks, insisting Jean and Lucien accept what they had collected. Lucien apologized to Jean before taking off his shirt to contain the gifts so that the Leongs could keep their sacks.

Although he wore a singlet beneath, Jean could see the edges of the scarring along his shoulders. With his cheerful, easygoing manner, she often forgot just what he had gone through so recently.

She schooled herself not to be showing her dismay when he looked back at her.

They bade farewell to the Leongs, making a date to meet every week as they had before, and once again Lucien took her hand and led the way back toward the fence. They stopped a couple of times, presumably for something only he could hear or see, but then made it safely back to and under the fence.

He insisted she take most of the produce they had been given, setting aside enough to show his men what they should be looking for on their nightly forays into the jungle. He escorted her as close to the door as he dared before releasing her hand.

"Same time, same place tomorrow?" he whispered.

"It's a date," she returned.

He gave her another of his brilliant smiles, something for Jean to take with her as she slipped back inside, already looking forward to the following night.

* * *

Lucien watched Jean disappear inside, before heading back to his own camp. He marveled at the strength of the woman, so brave, smart and kind, not to mention capable and beautiful. He chastised himself for falling so hard so quickly, but he suspected she welcomed his attentions. He hoped their attraction was more than just two lonely people too long deprived of the company of the opposite sex. It felt like much more than that to him.

He found himself humming 'You're the Top' as he slid through the loose slat in the fence. He was still smiling when he strode into the barracks, at least until he saw Derek Alderton watching him, a sneer on his face.

"Got some, did you?" said Derek.

Lucien sighed, refusing to be baited. Derek had changed so much that he could no longer be trusted with any information whatsoever. "How are you feeling?" Lucien simply asked.

"Nowhere close to as good as you, obviously. Is it still that Beazley woman or someone new now?"

"If you weren't lying in your bunk all day, you might have something more interesting to do than speculate about the love life you're making up for me. Honestly, Derek." He shook his head.

Derek narrowed his eyes, about to respond, but then turned away. He had something on his mind, Lucien could tell, and he needed to be watched. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

Stowing away the items he'd brought back with him, Lucien was tired out when he finally lay down on his pallet. There was a smile on his face as he fell asleep, already looking forward to seeing Jean again on the following night.


	13. Chapter 13

After turning the boys over to Eve's care for their daily lessons, Jean pulled a spare mat outside and then took out her sewing box with its bits and bobs so she could work on the simple Christmas gifts she was making.

She had been up with the sun to plant her new cuttings just as Mama Leong had advised her. Now she could focus on Christmas. The rambutans had been set aside to share with everyone as a treat the following day. And there was rampant speculation that another visitation between the camps would be allowed for Christmas, as a kind of compensation for the cuts in food.

As she sewed, Jean kept one eye on the soldiers' quarters in case Lucien made an appearance, but there was no sign of him. Reflecting back on their previous night's adventure, however, Jean realized that once they had gotten beyond the fence, she hadn't really thought about her attack at all. Perhaps the worst of it was finally behind her. In any case, she was quite looking forward to repeating the excursion again that night, even though they probably wouldn't have much chance to speak privately this time either. She was expected to counsel Private Manos on gardening instead. Still, it was nice to be in Lucien's company under any circumstances. She thought it might be interesting to see him acting in his capacity as a soldier, a commanding officer, as opposed to a doctor.

She worked steadily as her thoughts were drifting. Previously, she had made a handkerchief for Eve to thank her for her efforts with the children. A simple square of muslin had been given rolled edges then embroidered with Eve's initials and some dainty violets. Something pretty, which all the women seemed to crave in these drab surroundings. Now she worked to finish the toys she was making, a pair of sock puppets for Christopher, since he needed the opportunity to use his imagination, and a stuffed monkey for Jack, who always craved comfort of any kind. The gifts weren't much, but given the lack of material to work with, she was quite pleased with the way they had turned out. She stowed them carefully in the sewing box until they could be given out the next morning. She hoped her sons would like what she had made, no matter how simple. With the lack of toys in the camp, she thought they would appreciate something new to play with.

She took a final glance at the soldiers' camp, and with still no trace of Lucien to be seen, she put away her sewing things and went back out to tend to the garden once more. The hours always seemed to pass more quickly when she worked there.

* * *

Lucien had spent most of the day in much the same manner as Jean: making Christmas toys for Christopher and Jack. There was a sense of sorrow in the task for him, however, as he would have given anything to be celebrating with his darling Li, but at least he could try to make the holiday a little brighter for Jean's children.

He had used some young stalks of bamboo to fashion a pair of pan flutes. It took several tries to get the lengths just right so that they played a musical scale correctly, but finally the tones were satisfactory to his expert ear.

Then, with the help of one of the oldest men in the camp, Sergeant Bartell, he carved some very rudimentary toy vehicles, a car and a lorry, from unused pieces of wood. As a result of his mother's long ago demonstration to him, he even managed to make some pigments out of jungle flowers so that he could paint them.

As he set the toys aside to dry, he noticed Derek Alderton watching him closely. He expected to be asked about the items, but Derek only scowled and turned away. Exasperated, Lucien reflected on how they had been such close friends before the war, or at least he had thought they were. But he supposed that if Derek had been carrying on with Mei Lin, they probably weren't as close as Lucien had believed at the time. And yet, right up until the time of their capture, Derek had continued to seek out his company at every opportunity. Maybe he'd been trying to allay any suspicions Lucien might have.

He would have liked to confront Derek about his current attitude, but with the total lack of privacy in the barracks it was impossible. He was always reminding the men that they had to find a way to get along, so arguing with his fellow officer would hardly set a good example. Still, he was uneasy about the man's demeanor, and he made a mental note to tell Manifold to keep an eye on Derek tonight while Lucien himself was outside the fence. Then he went to speak with Manos about the planned garden. Nick, with the help of some volunteers, had already begun to break up the ground for the patch he intended to plant. His enthusiasm for the project made Lucien proud. For every Derek Alderton and Norman Baker in the camp, there were two or three others determined to help wherever they could.

* * *

As the sun went down, Jean was more than ready for the night's expedition. Christopher was still awake and noticed her sense of anticipation.

"What's going on, Mum?" he whispered so as not to awaken his brother.

"I'm going outside, into the jungle," she told him softly.

"Alone?" He sat up, ready to accompany her.

"No, sweetheart, not alone. Doctor Blake is going to meet me. He asked me to speak with one of his soldiers about starting their own garden."

Upon hearing that Doctor Blake would be with her, Christopher relaxed and lay back down. "All right. Please be careful, Mum," he said softly.

"I will, sweetheart. You go to sleep. If you need anything, Miss Neville is right there." She kissed him and then Jack before slipping outside, just at the edge of the darkness.

Moments later, she heard a soft rustle, and turned quickly to see Lucien reaching out a hand to her. She took it and smiled at him. Neither of them spoke until they had slid under the fence and moved back into the jungle, beyond the hearing of the guards. Another man was waiting there, rather gruff in voice and manner, whom Lucien introduced as Private Nick Manos.

Despite his manner, Jean found herself liking the man, especially when he told her that he raised begonias for selling. They had always been one of Jean's favourites; she had planted them at each home she had ever known.

The private seemed eager to learn how to produce food, which made Jean want to impart all the knowledge she could, while Lucien looked on, beaming proudly at both of them.

Manos asked her which plants needed the most sunlight and which preferred a shady area. She had just begun to explain when the sharp sounds split the night. She saw Lucien and Manos both stiffen, and then she realized it was gunfire.

"Back to the camp. Quickly!" Lucien whispered fiercely. "There'll be a headcount."

He pushed Manos in the direction of their barracks while he took Jean's hand and they ran, crouching low, to the women's camp fence.

When they reached the hole, he whispered, "Will you be all right from here alone?"

"Yes. You go," she urged him.

She was too scared for her boys to even think about her own safety. She scrambled underneath the fence and ran for the camp building.

Inside everyone was awake and wondering what had happened. She hugged Christopher and Jack fiercely as they all waited to see what was going on.

* * *

Lucien was delighted that his idea of having Jean teach Manos how to garden was working out so well. He loved the fact that she was so bright and engaged. He had learned long ago that he was drawn to smart women, learned it when he'd realized just how boring life with Monika Parker would have turned out to be. Whatever else she'd been, Mei Lin was intelligent and witty. Jean may not have had the educational opportunities afforded Mei Lin, but she more than made up for that with her inherent ability to read and understand people.

He was trying to absorb her teachings right along with Manos. It was critical that this garden succeed if they were to survive. Thankfully, Manos seemed to grasp that as well, asking good questions and listening closely to her replies.

He was preparing to ask one himself when the shots rang out. They seemed to come from close to the barracks. The first response of the guards would be to fear an escape attempt. It was imperative that everyone be inside the camp.

He ordered Manos back to the barracks, then took Jean's hand to get her into her own camp as quickly as possible. He would have preferred to see her safely inside, but he recognized his duty to his men.

When she assured him she would be fine to go under the fence alone, he waited just a moment until she disappeared from sight then turned and sprinted back toward the barracks. On the way he ran across the Dempsters and urged them to get inside, hardly slowing down to see if they complied.

Henry was holding the loose fence slat open as Lucien followed Morris through. Manos was already there.

"Report," Lucien said.

"It's Captain Alderton, sir," said Henry as they slipped inside, strode rapidly through the barracks and looked out toward the parade ground. "He was shouting at the guards, telling them to check beyond the fence."

"What?" Lucien was astounded. Derek had tried to get him killed?

Manifold was in the doorway waiting for him. He pointed toward Derek's body lying near the gate. All of the searchlights were trained on it.

"I'm sorry, sir. I tried to stop him, but he ordered me to leave him alone," Manifold explained.

Lucien looked closely at Derek for any sign of life. "Then what happened?" he demanded, still peering at his one-time friend.

"He tried to get the guards to search outside the perimeter," said Manifold, "but he didn't realize the ones he was shouting at don't speak any English. I think they were telling him to get away from the gate, but he kept trying to talk to them, telling them there were prisoners outside. Then he put his hand on the gate, to approach them I guess, and they shot him."

Derek, who always refused to go outside or interact with anyone, was probably the only prisoner there who didn't know which guards spoke any English and which ones didn't. That stubbornness had cost him dearly.

As Lucien continued to stare out at him, he thought he saw a twitch. Yes, there it was again, followed by a moan. He couldn't very well leave the injured man out there bleeding to death.

"Wait here," he ordered the others.

He looked at the guards who still had their rifles at the ready as they stared at the man they had shot.

"Sir, you'll need some help with him," said Henry, starting forward.

"As you were," Lucien barked. He refused to allow anyone else to be endangered by Derek's recklessness.

He walked slowly, his hands held out to show the guards he had no weapon, presented no threat. If necessary, he would reveal his knowledge of Japanese to explain to them he was just tending to the wounded soldier. They watched him closely, rifles now trained on him, but they said nothing.

As he approached where Derek lay, he risked looking away from the guards to assess his injuries. From what he could see, there were wounds to the left shoulder, the right knee, and the abdomen, very close to the bayonet wound that had caused him so much agony.

Another glance at the guards told him they hadn't moved, so very carefully he knelt down at Derek's side. "What in hell were you thinking?" he muttered as he took a closer look.

"I was thinking I would interrupt your 'date'," said Derek. "Looks like it worked, too."

"Hardly a date," Lucien told him. "And why would you care anyway? Jealous?"

Derek's shoulder and knee both looked to be shattered by the bullets. Carefully he pulled the singlet up to see how bad the abdominal wound was. Very bad indeed.

"As a matter of fact, yes," said Derek. "Jealous of her, not you."

Lucien had barely been paying attention to the conversation up until that point. "Jealous of her?" he repeated, completely baffled.

Derek snorted. "For a smart chap, you can be completely thick, Lucien. You can't save me this time, though, so I have nothing left to lose. I might as well get it out in the open."

"Get what out in the open?"

Derek looked him straight in the eye. "I've been in love with you for years."

Lucien was stunned. "With me? Derek, you slept with my wife!"

"And why do you think I did that? I had to break up your marriage to have any hope of... But then she had to go and get herself killed, and you actually mourned her. "

"Of course I mourned her. She was my wife! The mother of my child!"

"And now there's this Beazley woman. I wasn't going to see it happen again, Lucien. If I couldn't have you, neither would she."

The guards were forgotten, the danger ignored in the wake of this revelation. Never could he have imagined that Derek felt that way. He was shocked, not at Derek's homosexuality - he'd seen plenty of that in Berlin in the 1930's - but that Derek had loved _him_ and kept it secret all that time. "Why didn't you just tell me? We could have talked about it at least," Lucien insisted.

"And have you look at me with disgust? Or worse, pity?"

"So you tried to get Jean and me killed instead? That's not love, Derek, it's obsession."

Derek turned his head away. "Just leave me here to die. Do me that one favour."

"If you know nothing else about me, you know I can't do that," said Lucien. "Let's go."

He reached down for Derek's right arm, preparing to pull him up across his own shoulders to carry him, but Derek's body shuddered all over and then went still. Frantically, Lucien felt for a pulse, but there was none. The eyes began to glaze over. Derek had finally gotten his wish. He was gone, leaving Lucien with only questions.

He had tears in his eyes as lifted the body and trudged slowly back toward the barracks.


	14. Chapter 14

When there was no additional gunfire, Jean settled her boys back down to sleep. Only after she was sure they were settled did she go to the doorway to see what was happening.

"A man's been shot," Evelyn Toohey explained. "A soldier. Officer." She pointed to the body on the ground.

"Can you tell who it is?" asked Jean, feeling relieved that it couldn't be Lucien, who was with her when the shots were fired.

"I saw it happen," said Dorothy Turner. "A captain that I've never seen before came out and started shouting to the guards, something about people being outside the fence. The guards shot him."

Jean gasped. The only other captain besides Lucien in the camp was Alderton, and he never seemed to be outside. It had to be him. "Is he...?"

"Dead? I don't know," said Dorothy.

As they watched, Lucien appeared in the doorway, stood there for a few minutes, then started walking slowly toward the body. Her heart was in her mouth as he moved forward with the guards aiming their guns at him. How could he be so reckless with his life? Didn't he know how much his daughter needed him? How much his men needed him? And yes, how much she needed him, too. And all for a man like Captain Alderton, a man she found loathsome, despite how unChristian that might be. But, she reminded herself, she knew next to nothing about his relationship with Lucien.

She wanted to go back inside, unwilling to see the doctor be shot but found she couldn't look away. He reached the injured man and knelt beside him, seemed to be examining him. Were they conversing? And then Lucien slumped, his whole body showing defeat. The other man must have died, Jean thought. She watched Lucien lift the larger man's body over his shoulder and trudge back toward the barracks, disappearing inside.

Jean breathed a sigh of relief that Lucien had not been killed. As she turned to head back inside herself, everyone around her stiffened. She spun back around to see all of the off-duty guards emerge from their quarters and split into groups to head toward each of the camps. Roll Call, she suspected, just as Lucien had predicted would happen.

"Is everyone back?" she whispered, looking to be sure Ruth Dempster was there.

"It looks like it," said Evelyn. "Do you think the guards will come inside here after Suga's orders?"

"I'm sure they will, if they suspect an escape attempt," said Jean.

But a moment later Colonel Suga himself appeared and shouted an order to the men approaching the women's camp. One of the English-speaking guards, known as Dandy for his carefully pomaded hair, relayed the message. "All women and children will come outside to be counted," he announced.

Jean went in to wake the boys, but they were already awake from the noise. Jack was grumbling at the intrusion so Jean swept him up into her arms, and took Christopher's hand to accompany them outside. It took thirty minutes for everyone to assemble and be counted. In that time Jack had fallen back to sleep with his head resting on her shoulder. Jean reflected that despite his slender form, she wouldn't be able to carry him like this for much longer. Her last baby was a growing boy.

It was just past midnight when they were finally allowed to go back inside. "Merry Christmas," she murmured to herself ironically.

Christopher must have heard her. "Is it Christmas now, Mum?" he asked quietly, ever mindful of his sleeping brother.

"Yes, it is," she told him. "If we were back in Ballarat now, we'd be at midnight mass in Sacred Heart church."

"I remember that," said Christopher, scrunching up his nose. "I think I fell asleep there."

Jean nodded, smiling at him. "Yes, you did, sweetheart."

"Mum, when the war is over and we get to leave this place, will we go back to Ballarat?"

"Would you like to go back and live there?" she asked softly. "See your cousins Danny and Amy again?"

"I think so," he said slowly. "I think I'd like to go to a real school again, too. And have real Christmas, not like here. What about you, Mum?"

"I think I'd like that too," she told him, smiling and kissing his cheek. "For now, though, we both need some sleep."

"Good night, Mum. Merry Christmas."

"The same to you, sweet boy."

She slid onto the mat beside him, but sleep did not come quickly. The sight of Lucien looking so dejected as he carried his lonely burden kept replaying in her mind.

* * *

When Lucien reached the barracks with Derek's body, Henry stepped up to help lay it down on a pallet.

"Captain?" said Henry nodding at the corpse.

"I'm going to bury him," Lucien said dully. He began going through the pockets for any personal items that should be returned to Derek's family. As he recalled, the Aldertons were well-to-do, with some distant connection to British nobility. He would need to write and tell them that he died while attempting to escape, not that there was any guarantee the letter or the items would ever reach them. Still they needn't know the sad truth of how he was killed.

Lieutenant Manifold was still standing in the doorway. "Sir," he said, "several guards are headed for each of the camps. And Colonel Suga is out there."

"Is everyone back from outside?" Lucien asked.

"Yes, sir," said Henry. "I made sure of it."

"Thank you." As the senior officer, Lucien went out to meet the guards, even though he knew why they were coming. Maeda seemed to be in charge of the ones headed for their barracks.

"Everyone outside," Maeda told him, but the soldiers were already coming out.

After heads were counted and all were determined to be present, Lucien spoke up. "Corporal, might I have the use of a shovel? I would like to bury Captain Alderton." He pantomimed digging to make his meaning clear.

Colonel Suga was watching and understood the request. He gave an order and one of the other guards scurried away, returning moments later with the implement in question. "Tonight only," Suga told Lucien. "Give it back tomorrow morning."

"Understood," said Lucien. "Thank you, Colonel."

As soon as the guards left, Lucien went behind the camp, in a corner away from what would be their garden, and he began with the shovel. It wasn't much, but he could do this at least for his erstwhile friend.

"You should let the men do that for you, sir," said Manifold.

"Quite all right, Lieutenant," said Lucien. "I'll handle it."

Many of the others watched as he marked out the dimensions of the grave and started digging, but as there really wasn't much to see, they drifted away until only Henry remained. Henry, who knew when to be silent.

When Lucien paused to mop away the perspiration dripping into his eyes, Henry said, "Sir, why don't you let me take over, just while you catch your breath?"

Conflicted, Lucien saw the compassion in Henry's eye as the two men studied each other and rather reluctantly handed him the shovel.

Henry began to dig and to talk. "He told you before he died, didn't he?"

"Told me?" Lucien was startled. Were Derek's feelings that obvious to everyone but himself?

"I only knew because I recognized the way he sometimes looked at you when no one else was paying attention," Henry explained.

"Including me, it would seem," Lucien said bitterly.

"I don't really think he wanted you to know, not most of the time anyway. He didn't want to acknowledge it in himself."

The way Derek had always treated Henry... something clicked for Lucien. "'He didn't want to acknowledge it in himself.' That's why he pushed you away and insulted you."

"Yes, sir," Henry said quietly. "I'd appreciate it if you kept it to yourself."

"Of course. It's no one else's business," Lucien assured him.

"Thank you, sir."

Henry looked at him, trying to gauge his reaction, but Lucien was lost in his own thoughts. Apparently satisfied that this wouldn't change the respect between them, he returned to digging.

Lucien wondered how long Derek had held feelings for him. And when it had turned to obsession. If he had noticed it and let him know gently that there was nothing more than friendship possible between them, could he have prevented the descent into madness? Would Derek still be alive? If there had been no affair could Mei Lin have been convinced to leave Singapore with Li so she would still be alive as well?

Torturing himself with thoughts like those would help no one. He stood up and held out his hand for the shovel. Might as well do something useful at least.

They dug all night, with Lucien doing most of the work and allowing Henry to assist only when he was forced by exhaustion to take a break. The sun was just beginning to spread pink tendrils above the horizon when they laid Derek in the bottom of the grave.

"I hope you can find some peace now," Lucien said softly.

"Amen," said Henry.

Lucien removed Derek's dogtags and then he and Henry worked quickly to fill in the dirt above him before the shovel had to be returned.

While Lucien was flattening it down, Henry fashioned a cross from two bamboo stalks and placed it as a marker. Nodding his approval, Lucien then affixed the dogtags to the cross. In case neither of them was here when the camp was finally liberated, he wanted the Army to know who was interred in this spot.

Henry picked up the shovel. "I'll return this to the guards, sir. Why don't you try to get some rest?"

"Thank you, Henry. For everything."

"Yes, sir," said Henry. "You're welcome."

Lucien entered the barracks, ignoring the concerned looks from everyone who was awake, and threw himself down on his thin pallet. Despite his exhaustion, sleep would not come easily.

* * *

Waking before the boys, Jean joined the Belgian nuns for morning prayers acknowledging the holiness of Christmas. The oldest of the ladies, Sister Dominique, displayed a lovely little crêche intricately carved from a single piece of ivory that was a gift from her days as a missionary in the Congo. Sister Bernadette would use it later in the day as she related the story of the Nativity to the children.

When the prayers were over, Christopher was up, and Jack was just rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Good morning, and Merry Christmas," Jean said brightly.

"Merry Christmas, Mum," said Christopher.

Jack mumbled something about morning.

"I have a little something for each of you," she told them.

"Christmas gifts?" asked Christopher, his eyes lighting up.

Jack looked interested now, even though he barely remembered Christmas traditions.

Jean reached for her sewing basket. "Back home, the gifts would be wrapped in colourful paper with shiny bows," she explained to Jack. "Since I don't have any here..." She pulled out the monkey and handed it to him.

"Is it mine? To keep?" he asked.

She nodded, smiling broadly at him.

"Thank you, Mum!" He hugged the toy, then hugged her. At once he launched into a conversation between his new friend and his faithful old teddy bear.

Christopher watched her expectantly, knowing there would be something for him as well. She pulled out the small puppets, a cat and a dog. He actually smiled when he saw them. "They're great, Mum," he said, accepting them from her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, sweetheart," she told him. It warmed her heart to see them so happy. It took so little to make them that way

She watched them playing with their toys, then thought she might remind them of another tradition from home: carols. Jack would surely not remember the songs, but Christopher might if they were simple. She decided to start with "Jingle Bells".

Just as she was about to start singing, there was a loud buzz from outside. Evelyn announced, "Suga is on the parade ground. Looks like he wants to say something."

They all hurried out to see what he was going to announce. Jean hoped the rumour of another visit between camps was true. She wanted to be sure Lucien was all right.

"Merry Christmas," Suga began. "In honour of holiday, men, women and children can see each other. Talking but no touching. One hour."

"Mum, can we see Doctor Blake?" Jack asked.

"If he comes out," said Jean. "Would you like to see him again?"

Both boys nodded eagerly. Jean knew they were starved for the attention of a male figure. She was glad they seemed to like Lucien.

"He's nice," said Jack. "I want to show him my new monkey."

Christopher agreed. "He is nice. I like him."

"Well, then, we'll just hope he comes over," said Jean. For herself, she only hoped he was all right after the previous night's events.

The soldiers began emerging from their barracks, led by Evelyn's friend Harry. Jean watched closely, hoping for at least a glimpse of Lucien to reassure herself. She was surprised when another man, a tall dark-haired sergeant, approached her.

"Mrs. Beazley? I'm Henry Dent. Captain Blake asked me to give you his apologies. He should be along in a few minutes."

"Thank you, Sergeant. It's very kind of you to let us know. Is the captain all right?" Jean asked.

She could see the man weighing how much information to share with her.

"I'll let him tell you that himself, Mrs. Beazley," Henry told her. "He was sleeping when Colonel Suga made the announcement. That's why he didn't come out immediately."

Jean smiled brightly at him. "Yes, of course. Thank you."

"Here he comes now," said Henry.

They all watched as Lucien emerged from the barracks, but didn't head directly for them. Instead he approached Colonel Suga, who had been smiling genially from a distance at the proceedings. He initially frowned when he saw Lucien, obviously expecting a confrontation, but after a brief exchange in which Lucien showed him something wrapped in a piece of cloth, he nodded emphatically. His smile returned, wider than ever, as he saw Lucien heading for Jean and the boys.

* * *

Lucien had just fallen into a restless sleep plagued by dreams of arguing with Derek when the commotion over Suga's announcement startled him awake. Still only partially coherent, he reminded the men to behave themselves.

"Are you going out, sir?" Henry asked him.

Lucien scrubbed his face with both hands. "Yes, I should," he said, not feeling very festive.

"You made those gifts for the children," Henry reminded him.

"Yes, of course. You're quite right.," said Lucien. "Henry, would you mind terribly telling Mrs. Beazley and her sons that I'll be out directly? I just need to pull myself together a bit here."

"My pleasure, sir."

When Henry had gone outside, Lucien walked over to the basin in the corner and poured a bucket of water over his head. He shook off the excess, then used his fingers to comb his hair into a semblance of order. On his way back to his pallet, he glanced out through the doorway and spotted Henry with the Beazleys, and also saw Suga watching over the visits he had authourized.

He pulled a shirt on, buttoned it up and tucked it neatly into his trousers. From his pocket he took a handkerchief and placed the toys he made upon it, wrapping them up. He remembered Derek watching him as he finished making them. Was he even then planning to betray them? How long had he been ill enough to even consider risking so many lives? How had Lucien not noticed any of it?

Knowing now wasn't the time to address such issues, he mentally shook himself and fixed a smile on his face. It was Christmas, and Jean and the boys should be allowed to celebrate.

He stepped out the door, and glancing at the bundle in his hand, he decided he had better get clearance to give it to the boys. The guards (and everyone else) were sure to be on edge after the shooting incident. He glanced to where Henry was still conversing with the Beazleys before he headed toward the Japanese colonel.

Suga frowned at him, but Lucien was undeterred. "Colonel, thank you for allowing this today."

"Captain Blake," Suga acknowledged him.

Lucien pulled aside the corners of the handkerchief to show what it contained. "With your permission, I would like to give these toys to Christopher and Jack Beazley."

"Ah, Mrs. Beazley's childrens. Yes, yes, give them toys."

"Thank you, Colonel."

With the gifts cleared for giving, Lucien made sure his smile was in place as he walked toward the Beazleys. He had to admit that it felt a little more genuine when he saw Jean flash her own brilliant smile in return.

"Henry, thank you for standing in," Lucien told him, clapping the sergeant on the shoulder.

"My pleasure, sir. Mrs. Beazley, lovely to meet you and your sons." And with his typical discretion, Henry left promptly.

"Merry Christmas, Beazley family," said Lucien brightly.

They all returned the greeting, with Jack adding, "I like Christmas! See my new monkey Mum gave me?" He held it out on display.

"Yes, I see. Isn't he smart. Your Mum is a very clever woman to make him for you."

Jack nodded in enthusiastic agreement.

"And what about you, Chris?"

Much more shyly he held up the puppets for Lucien's inspection. "Aren't they something," said Lucien, smiling at Jean who was a little embarrassed by the praise.

"I made some small gifts for you as well," he continued. "Not nearly as smart as what your mum made for you, I'm afraid."

He opened up the handkerchief and revealed the Pan flutes first.

"What is it?" asked Jack eagerly.

Lucien held one near his mouth and blew across the openings to play a few bars of _Frère Jacques._

Both boys eyes lit up. "Can I try?" Jack asked.

"Certainly. One for each of you," said Lucien. He glanced back toward Suga, who nodded at him, before reaching across the trench to hand them to Jean, who passed them to her sons.

"You see one end of the tubes is open?" he explained. "You blow across it to make the notes. Each tube is a different note."

Christopher caught on very quickly, showing his younger brother how to do it. When they were both playing scales, Lucien said, "Bravo. You'll be musicians in no time."

"Thank you, Doctor Blake," said Christopher politely.

"Yes, thanks!" Jack echoed.

"You're very welcome. I do have one more for each of you. Not very grand, I'm afraid." He held out the carved vehicles, and again Jean took them from him.

"They're very good," she insisted. She showed them to the boys, and as she expected, Christopher allowed Jack to choose which one he wanted. He chose the lorry, as it looked more like the few vehicles they saw from the camp. He barely remembered the automobiles in Sandakan, but Christopher seemed delighted with the low-slung racing car Lucien had made.

"It's very kind of you to think of them," Jean said. "Thank you for making their Christmas special."

Lucien leaned in closer to say softly, "I expect that next year you can have a real Christmas. The war won't last another year."

"I pray you're right," said Jean.

The boys were engrossed with all of their new toys, giving them a few minutes to speak of more serious matters. "How are you?" she asked quietly.

"I'm fine," he insisted. "Right as rain."

She lifted a questioning eyebrow. Lucien decided his fake holiday cheer wasn't convincing enough to fool an astute woman like Jean.

"I _will be_ fine," he conceded.

"Could we meet tonight to talk?" Jean whispered.

"Not tonight, it isn't safe yet," he told her. "We'll keep an eye on the guards, and if they maintain their normal routine all night, I'll come for you tomorrow night?"

"Yes, please," said Jean. "Take care of yourself, Lucien."

He smiled at her, this one more heartfelt. She really was a lovely woman, inside and out.

Suga blew a whistle to signal the end of the visit.

With a chorus of 'thank you's following him, Lucien made his way back to the barracks. The burden of Derek's demise still hung over him, but perhaps it was just a touch lighter now.


	15. Chapter 15

The remainder of Christmas passed uneventfully. The children spent the day playing with their new toys. Christopher proved surprisingly adept at learning to play the Pan flute, which made Jack somewhat jealous. To placate him, Christopher helped his little brother see how he was doing it.

Jean spent much of the time feeling melancholic. All the memories of past Christmas celebrations made her feel the weight of imprisonment even more than usual. That and her concern over Lucien. He had so obviously been in emotional pain, and she had no idea why. She hoped she could get him to talk about it when they met the following night. _If_ they met the following night.

After they had finished the evening meal, Jean distributed the rambutans, telling the others where to find them and demonstrating how to eat them. As she expected, they were a big hit.

"These are wonderful," said Susan Tyneman. "Where did you get them?"

Jean considered before responding. It probably wasn't a good idea to reveal anything about the Leongs. She didn't think that Susan would knowingly betray them, but there were other women nearby that she barely knew. It might well put the Leong family in danger if word got back to the Japanese that they were helping prisoners. On the other hand, everyone already knew that Lucien had accompanied her beyond the fence.

"Captain Blake and I got them from out in the jungle," she told Susan, emphasizing Lucien's rank. "The trees that produce them are all around out there." There was an immediate clamour from everyone as they planned to pick more that evening, causing Jean to speak up again. "Captain Blake isn't sure it's safe to leave the camp so soon after the events of last night," she told the women. "He said his men will watch the guards tonight to see if they increase or change their patrols."

"Thank you, Jean," said Ruth. "These are delicious but not worth risking lives over. We can wait another day."

There were murmurs of agreement from the others.

"Well, then, I thought we might sing Christmas songs tonight instead," said Jean, wanting to prolong the feeling of the holiday.

"Oh, yes," said Dorothy. "Let's."

The women all sang, with the mothers teaching their children the words. The sweet voices carried all throughout the camp.

* * *

After leaving Jean and the boys, Lucien tried again to get some sleep but to no avail. His mind would not shut down. After an hour of tossing restlessly on his pallet, he remembered his mother saying that she always found drawing brought her a sense of peace when nothing else could. He might not have his mother's talent, but Miss Clasby always told him he had Mother's temperament. Maybe drawing would help him as well.

There was little in the way of paper in the camp, but he recalled that when he'd gone through Derek's belongings he'd come across one of the blank postcards that had been handed out for messages home. Derek must never have sent one. With sadness, Lucien wondered if Derek's very proper family had learned of his sexual proclivities and ostracized him because of them.

In any case, the blank scrap would serve his purposes. He found a narrow, charred stick in the fire pit they used for boiling water. It would serve as a usable piece of charcoal for sketching. Now he only needed a subject.

Perhaps something for Jean, since he'd given Christmas gifts to her sons but not to her. Ah, perfect. If he could just do it justice now so that she'd recognize what he was drawing.

He spent much of the day working on it, stopping only to check in with the men keeping watch on the guards. Most of the soldiers around him were still discussing the morning's visit, what they'd said (or should have said) to the ladies in the women's camp and comparing the attributes of each of them. Harold Morris was vehement that they not mention his Evy in that manner, and they all knew better than to even imply anything disrespectful about Jean.

Lucien only half-listened to the conversation as he drew, only enough to know that his men weren't planning anything that could cause trouble.

He closed his eyes frequently to bring up the images he was trying to capture. At one point he opened them to see Henry gazing at the drawing over his shoulder. "It's very good, sir," he asserted.

Lucien wasn't happy with it yet, convinced he could do better.

"Where did you learn to do that?" asked Henry, as others began to crowd around for a look.

"My mother was a painter. She taught me the basics, probably so I would keep quiet while she was working," Lucien admitted.

"It's for Mrs. Beazley? She'll love it."

"Yes, I hope so. It's been a long time since I've done this, so I'm a little rusty."

"Trust me, sir. She will," said Henry.

With no way to erase a mark made in error, he worked very slowly, being sure he knew exactly where each stroke of the charcoal should be before putting it down. Despite the small size of his "canvas", it was nightfall before he was satisfied that the drawing was as good as he could make it. He set it aside as the guards arrived with their daily rations.

All the men ate slowly despite the constant gnaw of hunger, not to savour the taste, since there was very little of that and it wasn't particularly pleasant anyway. They wanted to make it last as long as possible, and with their uncertain diet, eating slowly helped them to digest it more thoroughly. Extracting every bit of nourishment was vital.

They were lingering over cups of what passed for tea when they heard the women's voices drifting over from their own camp. The soldiers listened eagerly, reveling in this small bit of Christmas as they remembered it. Norm Baker tried to say something but he was quickly hushed, with several men making threatening gestures in his direction.

Many, including Lucien, had tears in their eyes as they listened to the familiar songs. Lucien's thoughts went back to the last holiday he'd spent with his tiny family. Mei Lin had insisted on a very British-style celebration, and little Li had been fascinated by the decorated tree. He remembered how she would approach it and touch the ornaments so very carefully, mindful of how delicate they were. Later, he sat her upon his lap at the piano bench and played every Christmas song he knew as her tiny fingers tried to imitate his much larger ones.

He regained control of himself and looked around at his men. Nearly every one of them probably had similar memories that the songs recalled for them. He could only hope that each of them would survive to create new Christmas memories next year.

* * *

The following day, Jean felt a sense of anticipation as she set about her usual activities: tending the garden, repairing and making over clothing, and chatting with her sons. Each time she went outside, though, she would glance toward the soldiers' barracks, hoping for a sign from Lucien that they would be meeting up in the evening. She saw no trace of Lucien, but late in the afternoon she spotted Sergeant Dent standing in the doorway and watching the women's camp as though he had been waiting for her. It seemed that he had been. As soon as he saw her, he gave her a thumbs up sign, and she nodded that she understood. Their "date" tonight would be held as scheduled.

When it neared the time that Lucien had appeared the prior nights, she kissed the sleeping boys, thanked Eve for keeping an eye out for them, then slipped outside, just at the edge between what the guardhouse lights illuminated and the darkness beyond. She had only been there a few minutes when he appeared beside her, his eyes shining in the darkness and his hand extended. She took it gladly and soon they were hidden in the jungle growth. Lucien once again seemed to have a destination in mind, in the general direction of the place they'd met the Leong family. Was it only two nights ago?

He led her to a place where the undergrowth was flattened but completely surrounded by taller stalks and leaves. They could sit comfortably and see each other in the pale moonlight but still be concealed.

"How did you know this place was here?" Jean asked softly. Despite the jungle noises around them, voices at normal volume could carry well beyond their intimate hiding place.

"The Leong family and I would sit here and have a meal together before... well, before the Selerang Square incident," said Lucien.

He sat down and leaned back against the trunk of an ironwood tree, inviting her to do the same. With a smile Jean slid down beside him, close enough that they would have no problem hearing each other as they spoke in near-whispers. He lifted an arm toward her shoulders and lifted an eyebrow asking her permission. She nodded, and his arm slipped around her. Jean had to suppress a satisfied sigh as she relaxed against him.

"Comfortable?" he asked.

"Yes. And you?"

"Quite," he said, his teeth flashing as he smiled.

Before this went much farther, Jean wanted to address what had happened two nights before. "Lucien, I've been concerned about you," she began. "I assume it was the death of Captain Alderton. It had to be upsetting to see one of your men killed like that. Were the two of you close?"

Even in the dim light she could see (and feel) as he flinched at her question. "What is it, Lucien?"

He paused, and for a long moment she was afraid he wouldn't answer at all, but then he spoke. "We entered the Army at the same time," he began. "We went through training together. Most of the others with us were from military families. They were very serious about doing everything the 'correct' way. Derek and I were more casual about such matters. We would even sneak off the base after hours to go drinking or meet girls."

Again he paused, wincing at some memory, then shook his head and continued. "We were never discovered breaking the rules. Derek would say we ought to be in Intelligence, we'd make good spies. Anyway, after we completed training, we were split up. Derek received orders for Burma while I was sent to Singapore."

"But wasn't he in Singapore as well?" Jean asked, recalling some of the things Alderton had said to her.

"Yes, later," said Lucien, frowning. "He never really explained how he managed it, but he arrived shortly before I was to be married. He was my Best Man at the wedding."

It was Jean's turn to frown. The two men must have been very good friends, and yet Alderton had betrayed Lucien.

"Something changed after that," he continued. "I didn't understand it at the time. I thought it was because I had settled down, become more serious, especially after Mei Lin became pregnant with our daughter. Derek still wanted to it to be like the old days."

"And now you don't think that was the reason it changed?" Jean wondered if he knew what his friend had done.

"No." Lucien reached up to smooth a hand over the hair at the back of his head. "Anyway, we still saw each other, at work, at parties. Then the war began. When the bombings started, I wanted to get my wife and daughter to safety, but Mei Lin refused to go, saying her place was by my side. I didn't insist for a while, but when it became clear that Singapore would be invaded, and that there wouldn't be many more ships leaving for safer ports, I told her she had to go, she had to get our Li out of there. She said if I wanted Li out, I should take her myself."

"Oh, Lucien!" Jean was heartbroken for him to be placed in such a situation. "Why wouldn't she want to be sure her daughter was safe?"

"It seems she had... other priorities," said Lucien. "She told me she and Derek had been sleeping together."

She gasped. So he did know, Jean thought.

"It wasn't all that uncommon in that place, at that time," he said, trying to lessen the shock of it, no doubt.

"Did you..?" she began, not quite knowing how to phrase it, but somehow needing to learn how seriously he had taken his marriage vows.

He gave her a melancholic smile. "I loved my family," he told her. "I treasured them. Much of my childhood was spent with no family to speak of, so it never occurred to me to jeopardize what we had."

"That must have made it very difficult when you learned about it," said Jean. She had never even thought about being untrue to Christopher, or him not being faithful to her. Was that just naive of her, or old-fashioned?

"Yes, I suppose it was. Jean, I've recently come to realize I'm not quite the judge of character I once thought myself," he admitted.

"Recently?"

He nodded, not meeting her eyes as she tried to understand.

"It seems I didn't really know Derek very much at all. Do you know what he was doing when he was shot? He was trying to tell the guards we were outside the fence. He wanted them to find us out here."

"You mean he was trying to get you killed?" Jean was horrified.

"He was trying to get both of us killed," Lucien told her gently.

"He told you that?"

"I'm afraid so." Still he wouldn't meet her eyes as he spoke.

"Why would he do such a thing?" she demanded indignantly.

"For the same reason he slept with Mei Lin." Lucien's voice dropped very low. "Just before he died, he said he was in love with me, and if he couldn't have me, no one else would."

Jean was stunned. She knew of such things, even suspected it of a few people, though it was certainly none of her business. "Did you have any idea?"

"None whatsoever. It seems I never knew the man at all."

"Or perhaps, well, it is illegal, Lucien. He would have had to keep it hidden, wouldn't he? Especially being in the Army. If it had gotten out..."

"Yes, I suppose you're right. His life would have been hell, although in a way it must have been in any case."

"I'm sure it was. It explains a lot about why he seemed so miserable, doesn't it? But that doesn't make any of it your fault."

"If I had realized it maybe I could have... done _something."_

"You didn't do anything wrong, Lucien. It's natural that when someone we care about dies we think about all the things we could have done better for them. But Captain Alderton made the choices he made, including the one not to tell you anything until it was too late."

She watched him think over what she'd said. After a while he said, "In the end it had become an obsession with him. I suppose if I had known and tried to talk with him about it, things might have gone badly. He never accepted rejection very well."

"You did what you could for him, despite what he'd done to you," she pointed out. "Let it go, Lucien. Mourn him and the friendship you had, but let go of the guilt."

He looked up at the sky, and she could see his eyes were damp with unshed tears. Gently she laid a hand on his cheek, drawing his attention back to her. Again she whispered, "Let it go."

"How did you get to be so wise?" He finally looked at her again. "Would you mind very much if I kissed you?"

She smiled at him. "I think I might mind if you didn't," she said. She leaned toward him and their lips met in a whisper-soft exchange.

He stared at her for just a moment, then leaned in again, more fiercely, and she returned his passion in kind.

When they finally broke for air, he said, "Thank you, Jean, and not just for..." He indicated the kiss they had just shared. "And now, I think it's past time we went back."

She was reluctant to lose the intimacy of the moment, touching her fingertips to her lips, but she knew he was right. They should leave now before things went too far between them. He stood and held his hand out to her. With a smile she pulled herself upright but rather than releasing his hand, she laced their fingers together to begin the walk back.

When they reached the fence, before he slid under it to make sure the way was clear, he reached into the pocket of his shirt and pulled out what looked to be a postcard.

"A little something I made for you. Call it a belated Christmas gift," he said, handing it to her.

She couldn't really see it in the darkness, so she just thanked him and slid it into a pocket of her skirt then followed him under the fence.

He accompanied her right to where the darkness gave way to the circle of light around the camp. Kissing her softly on the cheek, he breathed, "Good night, my dear. Sweet dreams."

Then he was gone.

She slipped inside, and after assuring herself that the boys were sound asleep, she took out the card and went back to the doorway. She angled the card toward the light so she could see it. On one side it said simply, "Christmas 1944". She turned it over to see a portrait of her sons, Christopher with a protective arm around Jack. The detail of their faces was exquisite, capturing each of them perfectly. In the bottom left corner were the initials "L.B."


	16. Chapter 16

They continued to meet at night several times a week, talking, harvesting the jungle's riches, and ending each visit with kisses. Little by little they shared the stories of their lives. Lucien told Jean about his time at school, his days playing the drums in a band, his delight in his daughter. He made the choice not to go into details about his relationship with his father - he didn't want to prejudice her against the old man, who might be able to assist Jean when she returned to Ballarat after the war finally ended.

For her part, Jean told him about growing up on a small farm, marrying as a teenager, becoming a mother soon after, leaving Victoria for the first time in her life when they accompanied Christopher to his posting in Borneo.

Lucien marveled at how brave she was to face so much. And now, here in this version of hell, she not only took care of herself and her sons, but also managed to keep all the others going as well. Not to mention what she had done for him personally.

The news of the war's progress was encouraging, with the British Army pushing the Japanese back steadily in Burma while the Americans advanced through the Philippines, with their Air Force now bombing the Japanese mainland regularly.

There were rumours coming out, though, of true atrocities occurring before some POW camps could be liberated. And here in Changi the frequency increased of prisoner work details leaving Selerang never to return. No one seemed to know if they were being executed, worked to death, or just reassigned to other camps. Believing it was only a matter of time until his men were assigned to just such a detail, Lucien could only hope they would all be liberated quickly or the Japanese would surrender soon. In any case they were at the mercy of events, with little they could do to influence them. He vowed to tell Jean of his feelings for her before the two of them were separated.

It was on the day Sergeant Evans's malaria flared up that everything became more urgent. Lucien's supply of quinine had long since been exhausted, and the sergeant's condition quickly worsened until he was shaking with fever. Given the damage he'd suffered from his previous bout of the illness, he would be lucky to last two days without medicine.

"The Japs have plenty," Morris told Lucien.

"Thank you, Private." He turned to Manifold. "I'm going to see if I can convince Colonel Suga to give me some for him, given the colonel's recent public relations efforts. Saving a prisoner's life would surely look good for him in a trial for war crimes."

"Yes, sir. Be careful, please," said Manifold.

Lucien went out to the gate that opened onto the parade ground and called over Corporal Yashito, one of the guards who spoke some English. The corporal escorted him to the administration building where Suga's office was located. There he was told to wait outside the office for Suga to be available.

There were two guards in the anteroom, clerks of some kind, Lucien assumed. As he waited, the two men gave him only a cursory glance before returning to their conversation in Japanese. They spoke softly, but he could still hear their words.

"He said to have his driver bring the car for him at eight o'clock," said one.

"Tomorrow morning?" asked the other.

"No, tonight. He's leaving tonight. The work detail will be rounded up at six in the morning."

"How many this time?"

"Two hundred altogether," said the first man. "Most will be from right here."

They both glanced toward Lucien, who carefully arranged his best poker face not to reveal that he understood them.

They returned to their conversation. "That means most of them will be gone."

"Yes, including that one."

Lucien's stomach fell so quickly that he had to compose himself and remember his errand when he was summoned into Suga's presence.

"What I can do for you, Captain?" the commandant asked while looking over the papers in front of him.

"Colonel, one of my men is very ill. Malaria. You are known to be a benevolent commander. I am asking you to spare some quinine to save the man's life, if you would be so kind."

Suga looked up at him and sighed. "I would like to save your man's life if I could. I have orders from highest levels. All medicines are only for Japanese soldiers now."

Lucien wondered how far he could push, but there was something else going on here, too. Suga radiated a despair that went beyond war shortages. Beyond the ordering of work details. Beyond the war itself. "Colonel, are you all right?" he asked using his best bedside manner.

Suga looked up at him for a long moment, then slowly picked up a framed photograph from his desk. "My sons and my daughter," he said, showing Lucien the photo of the three youngsters.

The little girl looked to be slightly older than Li had been when he last saw her, the boys about the same ages as Jean's sons. "They're lovely," said Lucien softly.

"Yes," said Suga. "They were killed by bombs."

"I'm so very sorry," said Lucien, and he was. These children did not deserve to die because of the actions of their elders.

"You have children?" Suga asked.

"I have a daughter," Lucien told him sadly. "I don't know if she's alive or dead."

"I hope she is alive and you will return to her one day, Captain." Suga pulled himself together. "I'm sorry I cannot help you with medicines." He nodded toward the door.

Lucien knew he would get no further; Suga could not be moved on this. He would have to look for another way to save Evans.

He had to force himself to walk back to the barracks at a normal pace - there was so much to do before the morning.

Once inside, he assembled the men. "Most of us will be sent off on a work detail first thing tomorrow," he told them.

There were a dozen questions thrown at him, most of which he couldn't answer. He held up his hands for quiet. "I overheard the guards talking about it. I don't know whom or exactly how many, just that I'll be one of them. And I don't know where we'll be sent or what we'll be doing. I suggest you all assume you'll be among those that will be going and settle your affairs accordingly."

He called Henry and Malcolm Beaufort to meet with him by the pallet where Evans lay, sweating and tossing restlessly. "I wasn't able to get Suga to part with any quinine," he told them. "His orders are that all medical supplies be used for Japanese soldiers only, so even sending Evans to the hospital won't get him any."

"What can we do for him?" asked Henry. "Assuming at least one of us is still here after tomorrow."

"Without quinine we can only treat the symptoms, try to make him comfortable and hope his body will fight off the infection. Keep him still and give him as much water as he can take in. Paracetamol to control the fever."

"We don't have much of that left," Beaufort pointed out.

"Not much use saving it," said Lucien. "There won't be many men left here, and liberation can't be far off now. Another thing: let's have as much clean water ready as we can. Every man who leaves here needs a full canteen. We don't know how long we'll be out there, but potable water will be essential."

"About the remaining medical supplies," said Henry.

"I'll take a bare minimum for minor injuries," said Lucien. "I doubt I'll be given a chance to help with anything more than that. Anything else?"

"What do you think the work detail will be doing?" asked Beaufort. "Is it just a way to execute prisoners?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," said Lucien. "Personally, I plan to stay alive and keep as many others alive as I can."

Beaufort nodded. Lucien could see just how scared he was, but there was no time now for morale boosting. That would have to wait. Too many other things required his immediate attention.

Morris stepped forward, reaching into his rucksack and pulling out a stack of blank paper. "I liberated this from the Japs," he said. "Won't do me a lot of good now. If anyone wants to write a letter home, I thought we could maybe leave them with the ladies. They have the best chance of making it through to when help gets here."

"Thank you, Morris. I agree," said Lucien, taking a sheet for his own use.

His mind was racing with all he wanted to do, all he needed to say while there was still time. First he packed up the few belongings he would take with him on the morrow, then he sat down to write to his father. He had to let him know about Li. Despite the old man's resistance to his marriage, Lucien couldn't believe he'd turn his back on his grandchild. If Lucien himself didn't survive the war, he had to know that Li would not be abandoned and forgotten as though she had never lived.

He also asked his father to keep an eye out for Jean and her sons, do what he could for them when they returned to Ballarat. Jean had literally saved his life.

Finally, he wrote that he regretted that they had not reconciled long ago. He didn't know if he would survive the war, but if he did, he would go home to Ballarat after he found his daughter. He hoped they could make it their home. If nothing else, the war had taught him the importance of family.

When he was satisfied that the letter contained all he needed it to say, he put it aside. He would give it to Jean when they met that night, ask her to see that it reached his father. They were also due to meet the Leongs. He hoped Jean would continue to meet with them after he was gone. They could help all who remained to survive.

With personal concerns settled for now, he returned his attention to his men and began to advise them on what they should pack to help them survive.

* * *

Jean always felt that the day went by more quickly when she knew she would see Lucien that night. Perhaps it was having something to look forward to, when so many days were just the same with little to hope for.

She had finally come to admit to herself that Lucien had a special hold on her heart. As much as she yearned for this war to end, she feared it, too, in a way. When it was over, Lucien would once again be a respected officer and well-educated, well-to-do doctor while she would be the widow of an enlisted man and the daughter of a small farmer. Here in the camps, the strictures of society only mattered to people like Susan Tyneman. In Ballarat, it was basically a caste system, with everyone expected to know his or her place. How would Lucien and his family see her then?

She shook off her doubts. They would keep for another day. It was almost time to meet him, and her stomach fluttered with anticipation. She knew it was vain of her, but she wished she could do her hair, her nails and her lips so she could look her best for him. At least she knew that it wasn't those artifices that drew him to her. He had certainly seen her at her worst, and still he wanted to be with her.

The sun dipped below the horizon. She kissed her boys then slipped out into the darkness. Lucien was there, and immediately she knew something was going on. He gripped her hand just a bit more tightly, and they moved more quickly to the cover of the jungle.

When they were beyond the hearing of the guards, she whispered, "What is it, Lucien?"

He looked at her for a long moment, then pulled her into a fierce kiss. Tears glistened in his eyes as he ended it. She was terrified even before he spoke.

"I overheard the guards talking," he began. "They are sending us out on a work detail tomorrow."

She gasped. Everyone in the camps knew of the infamous work details. "Surely not you - you're the commander!"

"They mentioned me specifically, my darling," he told her gently. "We leave at first light. I'm sorry, Jean. I thought we had more time."

She threw her arms around him, holding tightly as he softly rubbed up and down her back.

"Did they say where they're sending you?" she asked through her tears.

"No, no idea. So far no one has returned from the details so it doesn't look promising, I'm afraid." He pulled a paper from his pocket. "I've written a letter to my father. Would you be so kind as to see he gets it?"

"Yes, of course. I have a safe place to keep it," she assured him, thinking that Jack's teddy bear still had a little more stuffing that could be replaced. Then it hit her: he was saying good-bye to his father in that letter. He didn't think he'd survive.

He must have noticed the stricken look in her eyes. He reached for her hands. "I promise you that I will do everything I can to make it through, to make it back to you, Jean. But just in case I can't, my father needs to know about his granddaughter," he explained. "Dad needs to find her, see that she's cared for."

She nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Yes, of course. I'll be sure he gets this, make certain he knows how important it is to you."

"Thank you, my dear. I wish... well, there's so much I wish we could have done. I love you, Jean Beazley. I love you and your boys, please know that most of all."

"I love you, too, Lucien Blake." She studied his face, memorizing every line, wishing she had his talent for drawing so she could capture a small piece of him to keep with her.

"I'm glad," he said. "If things get bad, I will have that knowledge to see me though." He kissed her again, holding her close for a long moment. Then he scrubbed away his tears, and together they went to meet the Leong family.

He spoke at length with Mr. Leong in his native tongue, and judging by the way Lucien kept gesturing toward her, she assumed he was telling them she could be trusted to keep their interactions a secret so they would continue to provide her what they could. Mr. Leong seemed to be agreeing, but Mama had already made up her own mind, giving Jean an armload of fruits and greens.

It was very late when they made their way back toward the camps. At the edge of the undergrowth, they paused for a final good-bye. Jean set down the items she was carrying so she could wrap her arms around him once more.

He rested a hand along her cheek and pulled her in for one last kiss, and what a kiss it was. It felt as though he was trying to pour his soul into her, and perhaps he was. Reluctantly their lips parted. For just a moment he rested his forehead against hers and whispered, "I love you."

"I love you, too," she whispered fiercely. "You come back to me, you hear?"

He flashed that brilliant smile. "Wait for us in Ballarat," he said as he released her hand. "Li and I will see you there."

She watched him until the darkness had claimed him. Yes, she would wait for Lucien and his daughter. As long as it took.


	17. Chapter 17

In the soldiers' barracks, few of the men got much sleep that night, waiting to see what the morning would bring. Even though he knew he needed to rest as most likely he would be marching long miles once the day began, Lucien could only lie on his pallet and try to think if there was anything else he needed to address with the men under his command. But not knowing what they were about to face, or who would be facing it and who would be left behind, how could he counsel anyone?

With the fateful hour approaching, he gave up any pretense of sleep. As he did every morning, he pulled from his chest pocket a small photograph of his daughter, looked at it lovingly, then put it away securely. He would carry her next to his heart until he either died or was reunited with her.

Then he looked over the items in his rucksack, double checking that he had everything that might be of use and nothing extraneous. His canteen was full, and he stuffed his spare socks into his pockets, just in case he was separated from the rucksack.

Seeing that everyone else was already awake and upright, he called together the men he trusted most for a few words. He hoped at least one of them would be remaining behind.

"I expect discipline to be maintained until the Allies get here," he told them. "Keep in touch with Selerang if you can, and pass any news along to the other camps so everyone knows when help is coming. And stay alive until then. That's an order." He smiled at them. "It's been a pleasure to serve with you. Dismissed."

As they began to scatter, Henry remained behind for a moment more. "You stay alive, too, sir," he said. "That's a request."

Lucien clapped him on the shoulder. "You're a good man, Henry. Thank you for all your help."

Henry just nodded, too nervous for anything more.

And then the guards arrived, new ones they'd never seen before. Lucien didn't know what to make of it except that it seemed to confirm they wouldn't be returning to Changi.

As he picked up his belongings he watched carefully to see who would be remaining behind. Manifold was motioned over to join Lucien and the others who were part of the detail. Beaufort, too, as well as Morris and most of the others who had provided any signs of leadership.

Norman Baker was cowering in a corner, and for a few moments it looked like he would be passed over, but when the Japanese sergeant spotted him, he signaled for one of his men to bring him along. The very act of trying to avoid the detail had caused him to be included in it.

At last it looked they had rounded up everyone they planned to take. Only a dozen would remain, among them the still gravely ill Evans and, Lucien was glad to see, Henry Dent. All lined up to salute their commander. Lucien snapped to attention and returned it crisply. Then the guards ushered them out the door and through the gate.

Despite the early hour, the other camps had mostly emptied; the internees gathered along the barriers to see off the Australian soldiers. There were shouts of encouragement and support from the other men, but the women were mostly silent, many openly weeping.

Lucien's eyes immediately sought out Jean's. She was smiling despite her tears, with the boys on either side of her. He froze the image in his mind to carry with him in the days ahead.

As he passed them, he mouthed to her, "I love you". In return, she blew a kiss. He smiled, too, wanting her to remember him that way.

On the way through the main gate, he heard a small voice call out, "Good-bye, Doctor Blake."

He tuned back to see Jack Beazley waving furiously. Lucien winked at him and glanced at Jean one last time. Then they were moving down the road, away from Changi, away from Jeanand her sons, and toward they knew not what.

* * *

Jean watched as the soldiers... as Lucien headed through the main gate and down the road, disappearing from sight. She pulled her sons close, hugging them tightly.

"Mum!" Jack protested.

Christopher hushed him. He always seemed to know when she was upset. She released Jack and kissed the top of Christopher's head.

"I don't want Doctor Blake to go away," said Jack.

"No, I don't either," Jean said sadly. Along with all the other reasons, she hated that once again her sons were deprived of a male influence in their lives. She despaired of them ever having a normal childhood, even after the war. Maybe being back in Ballarat, being around other children like Danny and Amy, was the best thing for them.

"Okay, you lot, almost time for school," she told them.

She handed the care of the boys over to Eve for the day, then decided to join the nuns for _matins,_ the morning prayers. She asked God to watch over Lucien and the others, keeping them safe. But despite her devout faith in the power of prayer, she spent much of the day listening for the sound of gunfire. If the men had been taken for execution, how far from the camps would they be marched first, she wondered. Several times she paused, fearing she'd heard something, but each time it proved to be the sounds of everyday life in the camp.

She spent the usual hours tending to the garden. On most days gardening was a refuge for Jean, allowing her to lose herself in the simple acts of weeding, tilling and harvesting, but now it brought her little peace. She could feel the days ahead stretching before her like a long, empty road. She knew the end of the war was off in the distance somewhere, but still out of sight with no other option than to keep moving.

As she sat with the boys at sundown to eat their meal, such as it was, Jean noticed that even her ebullient Jack was subdued. He put up none of his usual protest when she suggested they all turn in early. They lay down on their bamboo mat, and Jack moved close, needing a cuddle. Christopher, too, lay closer then usual, and when Jean reached out a hand to him, he clasped it gratefully.

She was afraid she wouldn't be able to sleep, but the emotion of the day had exhausted her. She fell asleep quickly. Her rest, though, was far from peaceful, with vivid dreams plaguing her.

She dreamed of her husband, as she often did. Christopher was there in the camp, standing across the trench from her and the boys. As she watched in horror, the trench widened and Christopher was forced farther and farther away from her. And then, Lucien was beside him, both men staring back at her, helpless to do anything as they were being swept away. Suddenly, gunfire erupted, and they both fell to the ground just before they disappeared from her sight.

She sat up, shaking, only to see everyone else sitting up as well. Had she been crying loud enough to wake them?

"Was that shooting?" young Christopher asked her.

The women began to stand and move over to the doorway, peeking out to see what was happening. The guard tower searchlights were trained on a body lying just outside the storehouse. Someone had obviously been seeking something inside.

"Who is it?" they murmured amongst themselves. It felt all too familiar.

"One of the soldiers," said Evelyn. They all knew there weren't many of them left.

Still disturbed by the dream she'd awakened from, Jean moved outside to get a better look. She had to remind herself it couldn't be Lucien - he was gone from the camp. Still she squinted into the night as the guards went out to drag the lifeless body to the barracks, and then she recognized him with a start. It was Henry Dent, Lucien's friend. Probably killed in search of medical supplies.

* * *

The first few hours of their march were harrowing for the soldiers who feared they could be executed at any moment. Hardly a word was spoken, as the Australians kept a close eye on their captors. Lucien had decided almost as soon as they left Changi that he wouldn't go quietly. If execution seemed imminent he would fight. He suspected he wouldn't be the only one. There were four guards and over two hundred prisoners. With those odds, chances were some of them would survive.

But the farther they got from the camp, the more likely it seemed that execution was not the intent at all. Why would they be marched so far away just to be killed? Maybe it was actually a work detail after all.

The guards may not have been ordered to kill their prisoners, but they were ruthless nonetheless. They allowed no talking and no stopping for any reason. The first few infractions were punished by the sergeant in charge, who wielded an old-fashioned riding crop, whipping fiercely for the most minor transgression.

As the day faded into twilight, the prisoners' strength was flagging at the long march after so many months without proper food. Their pace grew slower and slower until the guards became angry.

"Move!" shouted the Japanese leader.

"It's your fault we're so slow. We need to rest," Baker retorted.

The sergeant whipped him across the face, sending Baker to the ground writhing in pain and howling.

Lucien quickly knelt beside him, trying to get a look at the injury, but again the sergeant shouted, "Move! Both move!"

Lucien took Baker's arm and hauled him upright.

"He walks or he dies," the sergeant insisted.

Lucien slung Baker's arm across his shoulders and started walking as the other man stumbled along beside him.

"He walks or he dies," repeated the guard. He pulled Baker away from Lucien, but Baker fell to the ground once again. When he didn't get up immediately, the guard shot him.

"No!" Lucien cried out, trying to see to him, but the sergeant used his crop once again, striking Lucien repeatedly across the back until he was forced to move. It was clear he'd be shot too if he continued to resist.

The march carried on until well past dark, and then finally the prisoners were herded into a circle and allowed to sit, much as they had been on the way to Changi. Having expected this to happen, Lucien maneuvered so that he was near the guard who carried the two-way radio. He hoped to overhear any transmissions that might give him information on where they were being taken and what they might expect.

He drank a few swallows from his canteen then settled in. The guards still insisted the prisoners remain silent, which meant that when the transmission came through, Lucien could hear every word clearly.

"Bombs! First Hiroshima then Nagasaki totally destroyed! Everyone is dead!" The voice sounded frantic. Perhaps he had family in one of those places.

"What does the emperor say?" demanded the sergeant.

"Nothing yet," came the reply, "but it's only a matter of time."

"No surrender! We can never dishonour ourselves and our fathers that way."

"We will follow the emperor," the other man said firmly. "We will follow orders."

Somewhat petulantly the sergeant quickly terminated the transmission.

Lucien tried to process the information he'd heard. It seemed Japan was on the verge of surrendering. If so, that meant they just had to stay alive for a few more days and it would be over. He would soon be looking for his daughter, and together they would return to Ballarat. And to Jean.


	18. Chapter 18

_Author's Note: Another warning of some gruesome details in this chapter. As General William T. Sherman and many others have noted, war is hell._

Since Evelyn's friend Harry had gone with Lucien and the others, Jean wasn't sure how they would get news from the other camps now, but somehow it still filtered in about the new, more powerful bombs the Yanks had dropped on the Japanese mainland.

"They call them 'atomic bombs'," Evelyn explained. "They say a single one practically destroyed an entire city."

Jean was horrified. Even if they were the enemy, did they deserve such destruction? How many young children had been killed, she wondered. Early in the war she had read accounts of the 'blitz' and all the havoc it had wrought on cities in England. Now their side was doing the same, maybe worse. It seemed to her that war was just wrong, full stop.

If Lucien was correct, it would be ending soon, though, but even that was little comfort in light of the rumours sweeping the camps. No one knew what the guards would do if their side surrendered. Would they submit quietly? Would they attempt to fight off whoever came to liberate the camps? Would they take revenge against the internees and prisoners?

Jean and the other mothers insisted that their children stay inside until the situation was resolved one way or the other. They didn't want to take any chances, now that they were so close to coming out safely on the other side.

* * *

Near the end of their second day of marching, the prisoners and guards reached their destination: a temporary camp set up for repair of a railroad line.

Lucien was in a sorry condition, with the new welts on his back open and bleeding still. He refused to quit, despite how easy it would be just to let his legs give out, as they had been threatening to do all day. A bullet would end his suffering, but he refused to be defeated when the end of the war was so close. He owed it to Li and to Jean to survive no matter what.

While they were being sorted and assigned to the various construction tasks there was a loud commotion on the far side of the encampment, where it appeared that new sleepers were being laid to support the rails. The thick pieces of lumber were being wrestled into place by teams of men, but the Japanese soldier overseeing the operation was clearly dissatisfied. In his hand was a thick sword, a machete, and as Lucien and the other newcomers watched in horror, he swung it at two of the workers, cleanly decapitating them. He then picked up the severed heads and tossed them aside before yelling at the remaining men.

From the subdued reaction of the others, Lucien concluded it was something they had seen before, but the casual cruelty of the man was something he would never have believed. He had a feeling the image of the Japanese soldier holding those heads would be burned in his memory for all time.

Beside him, Lucien heard Harold Morris mutter darkly, "If I die I'm taking him with me. He won't make it out of here alive."

They were still stunned by the sudden violence when they were assigned to teams. With a sinking heart, Lucien saw the guard who was doing the sorting motion for Lucien, Morris, Manifold and many of the other newcomers to join the crew laying the sleepers, under the direction of the machete-wielding corporal.

"Look sharp, men," he murmured to his men. "Just do what he says for now. No one else dies here."

The lateness of the day was the only thing that saved Lucien. His strength was nearly gone as he struggled to manage the heavy timbers. Finally the Japanese engineer in charge of the whole operation called a halt when it was too dark to see. The prisoners were taken to large tents where they were given a dipper of water and a meager meal before being ordered to sleep on the ground.

"We can't take much of this, sir," Lieutenant Manifold pointed out, whispering in the darkness. "Even if we avoid being killed by that... that butcher, we won't last more than a few days of this heavy work. Not after being starved for so long."

"We only have to last a few days," Lucien said. He could sense all those around him picking up on the conversation. "I overheard the guards speaking to their HQ last night. They expect Hirohito to surrender any day now. We just don't know how the Japanese Army will react to that, though."

"I say we fight if they start anything," said Morris. "There's a lot more of us than of them. The Butcher is mine, though. That bugger dies by my hand."

"We don't need that kind of talk, Morris," Lucien told him sharply. "There'll be plenty of trials when the war is over, and the criminals will pay for their crimes. Let's just concentrate on surviving until then."

"Speaking of surviving, Captain, your back," said Manifold. "You should have someone see to it. Beaufort, can you see to Captain Blake?"

Lucien would have preferred being treated by Henry, but it gave him some comfort to think that at least his faithful sergeant was back in the relative safety of Changi.

* * *

 _August 16, 1945, the day following Emperor Hirohito's surrender to the Allies_

Jean was always one of the first women awake, but on this day she awoke even earlier than usual. There was something off, something unnaturally still about the camp. She had a vague recollection of hearing the sound of vehicle engines during the night, but she'd attributed it to her dream about her very first visit to Melbourne and being amazed at the amount of traffic on the streets.

She got up slowly, as she usually did so as not to wake the boys. She slipped into her dress, dismayed to see the thin material was nearly worn through in places. She would have to find some sort of material to patch it. As with most of the women, the clothes she had brought with her from Borneo at the start of captivity had all seen better days. Even Susan Tyneman now sported patches on her dresses.

Jean brushed her hair carefully. The poor diet had made it brittle. At least it wasn't falling out in clumps, the way it was for some of the ladies, she reflected.

Only after making herself presentable did she step to the doorway and look outside. Her first glance was always toward the Australian barracks. Rationally she knew Lucien wasn't there, but still her heart was insistent that she check anyway.

She saw movement in the civilian men's camp. Patrick and another man she didn't know were pointing up at the guard towers and talking animatedly. Jean glanced up to where they were pointing. The tower was empty. Quickly she looked to the front gate. Also deserted. There were no guards to be seen anywhere!

"Patrick," she called out, and pointed to where the guards' vehicles were kept. It was also empty. The sounds she'd heard during the night must have been them leaving.

Still looking around carefully, not quite believing they were really gone, both Jean and Patrick opened the gates of their respective camps and walked out onto the parade ground.

"Do you think it's finally over?" Jean asked.

"It must be," said Patrick. "We did it, Jean. We survived them."

They embraced each other carefully but joyously, then stepped back, both somewhat embarrassed.

"Now what, do you think?" asked Jean.

"I think we probably have to wait for bureaucracy to catch up with events," said Patrick.

"Yes, I think you're right. In the meantime, let's see if the guards left anything useful behind. Like food."

She marched toward the storeroom with Patrick following in her wake. The building was unlocked, probably forgotten in the guards' haste to flee. Inside, most of the shelves were empty, but there were a few commissary-sized cans of beans and fruit plus some large sacks of uncooked rice.

"Maybe we should take all of this out to a central area so it can be shared with everyone," Jean suggested.

"That's probably the fairest way," Patrick agreed. "We need to bear in mind we may be here for days or even weeks before help arrives."

"At least we'll be able to forage out in the jungle in daylight without fear of being shot. That should supplement what's here."

"We should let the others know, and get some help to move this food," said Patrick.

Jean hurried back to the women's camp to break the news. Already some of the others were stirring, including Christopher.

She stood in the doorway and called out, "May I have your attention, everyone. The guards disappeared during the night. It seems the war is over!"

"Really, Mum?" asked Christopher.

She nodded emphatically.

Christopher reached down to shake his little brother. "Wake up, Jack. The war is over. We can leave here and go home."

Throughout the day, the former prisoners and internees wandered around the area, enjoying the opportunity to go where they wished. A couple of British soldiers came down the road from Selerang to confirm for them that Japan had surrendered. At long last the hostilities had ended. Their officers had made contact with the advancing armies, and help was on the way. They should all stay put until it arrived.

After the initial euphoria had begun to subside, and they'd had a chance to fill their stomachs for the first time in recent memory, Jean took her sons under the back fence and out into the jungle. She wanted to see its beauty in the daylight, show it to her sons while she could. There would be nothing like this back in Ballarat.

"Is this where you would go with Doctor Blake at night?" asked Christopher.

"Yes, all around here," she said. With a smile she pointed out a tree loaded with rambutans, and the boys picked as many as they could carry.

Jack paused and looked at her. She knew he could barely remember what it was like before the war; nearly half of his young life had been spent in the camp. "Mum," he said, "if the war is over does that mean Doctor Blake can come back here?"

 _Did it?_ Jean wondered. Would Lucien try to get back to them, assuming he was still alive? Should they wait here for him or just go on to Ballarat and hope he would show up there as agreed? She didn't know if her heart would last, waiting weeks or even months to know his fate. At that moment she made the decision: she would stay here as long as they were allowed by the authorities, or until Lucien returned to them.

The day passed in a joyous celebration for the prisoners, with concrete plans being made for where they would go, what they would do when they reached home. They compared notes on what they had missed most in captivity and what they wanted for their first real meal.

"I want ice cream," Christopher announced. "A big bowl of it."

"Me too," said Jack, although he didn't really remember what that was. "Ice cream is good, isn't it, Chris?"

"Ice cream is delicious," Christopher assured him. "Cold and creamy and sweet and wonderful. You'll love it."

Jack nodded. "Yes, I want ice cream, too."

Jean had tears in her eyes. So many simple things her sons had been denied. She wanted to give them everything, but just knowing they would have enough to eat from proper meals would be a huge comfort to her.

And then she thought that at least she had her boys with her and knew they were safe. Poor Lucien (and she refused to allow for the possibility that he hadn't survived), poor Lucien knew nothing about the fate of his daughter.

It was almost sunset when the first planes flew over the camps. They dropped leaflets requesting everyone hold tight until help could get there. They also dropped tiny parachutes holding parcels of chocolate and cigarettes.

Jack may not have remembered ice cream, but chocolate was another matter entirely. He would have eaten enough to make himself sick if Jean hadn't insisted he save some for the next day. After the years of deprivation, though, she could hardly blame him for wanting to eat it while he could. She only hoped their rescuers would bring more practical supplies when they finally arrived.

* * *

Lucien awoke in agony. The wounds on his back were inflamed and angry, draining every bit of will from his body. He suspected he had a fever as well. He knew that regardless of his condition he had to be ready to work or he would die, but in this very moment it seemed to him that death might be a blessing. Then thoughts of Jean and Li flashed through his mind. He couldn't let them down, no matter the cost. He would just have to ignore the pain as he worked; let his mind wander away as it had in that damned hole.

First things first though. He had to get to his feet. Since he had slept on his front, he moved his hands up under his shoulders and slowly levered himself up to a kneeling position. Immediately he became light-headed. Definitely a fever, he decided. The wounds were infected, despite Beaufort's treatment.

He waited a few moments for the dizziness to clear before attempting to stand. It was then that the shouts went up outside. Afraid that there was more trouble, he somehow lurched upright just as Lieutenant Manifold rushed back in. "They're gone! Sir, all the guards are gone!"

Morris was right behind him. "Buggered off during the night, they did. All except the Butcher. Seems like even the other guards hated the bastard, left him behind asleep. No one to mourn him now."

Lucien noted Morris had blood spattered on him, and the infamous machete now hung from his belt. He stared defiantly at Lucien for just a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. "Let's get out of here," he muttered. "Find us a fighting unit and kill some Japs."

"The war is over," Lucien reminded him. "That's why the guards took off."

"Maybe, but they still have a lot to answer for," said Morris. He motioned to the others and a handful of them followed him out.

Lucien intended to go after them, order them back, but after two steps forward, he was on the ground, unconscious.


	19. Chapter 19

The period of waiting in the camps quickly became a strain on patience and tempers. People who had bonded together through harrowing times could not seem to get along quite so well now that the worst was over.

The airplanes were flying overhead regularly, dropping medical supplies and army rations. No one had to go hungry or suffer untreated illnesses, and yet they still found plenty of reasons to disagree.

Fed up with the pettiness around them, Jean and Eve would take the boys into the jungle for most of the day. They would imagine they were picnicking, and it afforded the children plenty of space to play and explore for the first time in years.

"Do you have plans for after we're free?" Jean asked Eve.

"Absolutely," said Eve. "I'm going to New York to see my sister, Patricia. After a while, when things settle down, we'll probably move back to London."

"That sounds wonderful," said Jean. "Very cosmopolitan."

"What about you?"

"Nothing half so exciting," Jean admitted. "We'll go back home to Ballarat. Stay with my sister's family until I can find some way to support us."

"And Captain Blake?" asked Eve, lifting an eyebrow.

Jean felt herself blush. "We agreed to meet up in Ballarat, after he finds his daughter. Assuming he doesn't come back here before we're liberated." She lowered her voice even though there was no one else around to hear. "I plan to wait and be among the last ones out of here, just in case he's on his way back. Most likely it will only be a few extra days, but I'd really like to see him before we leave."

"I don't blame you for that, for wanting to know he's safe before you head home. For the sake of the boys, too. Jack talks about him all the time. Jean, I hope it all works out for you. You deserve some happiness."

"As do you," Jean insisted. "Truthfully, I think we've all earned it with what we've endured. Even that lot back there."

Eve looked back in the direction of the camp and smiled. "They've won the war, but so far they seem to be losing the peace."

* * *

Lucien awoke feeling groggy, with his head pounding and his back afire with pain. He turned his head to the side and groaned. The sound brought Lieutenant Manifold and a captain that Lucien didn't recognize.

"You're back with us, then," the captain said, crouching down over Lucien's prone body.

"Partially, at least," said Lucien, trying to push himself upright but failing painfully.

"You might just want to stay where you are for now," the captain suggested. "I'm guessing you could use some water though."

"Please."

Manifold assisted him to sit up enough to drink, and the water eased his headache sufficiently for him to think more clearly. "How long was I out of it?"

"Three days, sir," Manifold told him.

"Your lieutenant stayed behind with me to set up this medical tent of sorts. By the way, I'm Captain Spencer."

"A doctor?" asked Lucien. He saw that there were two other patients with him.

"Barely. I joined up right out of medical school. I have my degree but no hospital training except in the field."

"I'd wager you've seen more trauma cases than many A&E doctors see in a lifetime," Lucien assured him. "Now, please tell me what's happened in the last three days."

"Most of the prisoners are gone, the majority decided to head to Changi. Rumour is there's a battalion on its way there to transport everyone back home. Hirohito may have surrendered, but as far as we know, the Japanese still occupy Singapore so it might be weeks before the Allies make it to Changi."

"We've seen a few Allied planes overhead, sir," Manifold told him. "Looked like they were headed toward Changi."

"That's where I need to go," said Lucien. He tried to stand, but his legs refused to cooperate.

"I'm afraid you'll be here for a few days yet," said Spencer. "You can't walk and there aren't enough able-bodied men here to carry you. We've signaled to the planes so they know we're here. Only a matter of time until help comes."

"I can't wait that long," Lucien insisted. "I have to get back to Changi."

"It isn't a matter of what you have to do or how long you can wait, Captain. You're stuck with us for the time being."

* * *

By the end of the second week of waiting for their liberators to arrive, the resentment that had been directed at each other was now aimed primarily at the governments involved. Some, like Susan Tyneman, seemed to take it as a personal insult that they were being kept waiting. Susan made everyone aware that Patrick knew several members of Parliament and a minister or two, and they would all be hearing about this 'disgrace' as soon as they set foot on Australian soil once more.

Jean didn't think her sons needed to hear such vitriol any more than the squabbling that preceded it. They would join the others for meals and bedtime, but the better part of the day was spent outside in the jungle. School, such as it was, had been discontinued as they were all hoping each day would be their last in the camp.

She tried to answer the boys' questions as best she could about what the future held for them.

"When the soldiers come to get us will they take us right back to Australia?" Jack asked, even though he had only the haziest notion of what Australia was.

"No, I don't think so," Jean told him. "I suspect we'll go to a military base or hospital first to be checked out."

"Like the base where we lived before the Japanese took us away?" asked Christopher, knowing Jack might remember that.

"I expect so. From there we'll probably get onto a ship to take us to Australia."

"A ship?" Jack scowled.

Afraid he would be thinking of the tiny cramped boat that had brought them from Borneo to Changi, she tried to reassure him. "A very large boat, with room for everyone. I'm sure there will be real beds for us to sleep in and plenty of food to eat."

"Oh. That doesn't sound so bad. Will there be ice cream?"

Jean smiled and smoothed his hair back. "No, I don't think so. You'll have to wait until we get to Australia to try ice cream." She vowed to herself that a trip to the ice cream parlour would be on the itinerary as soon as they reached Ballarat.

"What else can we do in Australia?" Jack asked, his eyes sparkling. To him it seemed almost a mythical place.

"We can play soccer with a real ball," said Christopher. "And listen to music on the wireless. And go to the picture shows. And a real school."

"Really?" Jack looked to his mother for confirmation.

"Yes, really. And so much more, sweetheart."

"I think I'm going to like Australia," he said, nodding his head firmly. "Will Doctor Blake be able to visit us there?"

"I hope so," Jean said, trying not to tear up. "Doctor Blake's father lives in Ballarat, where we'll be living."

"Doctor Blake will be there, too," said Christopher. There was no doubt in his mind. "We can see him all the time."

"Good," said Jack. "I miss him."

"Me, too," said Jean, praying Christopher's confidence was not in vain.

* * *

Lucien dozed off and on, as the infection-induced fever sent him out of his mind for days at a time. He was only dimly aware of Spencer forcing him to drink water from time to time and bathing the wounds on his back.

Then, finally, the fever broke. He felt as weak as a babe, but his mind was clear.

His first thought was of Changi, of Jean and her sons. He tried to sit up, which brought both Spencer and Manifold to his side.

"Going somewhere?" Spencer asked him.

"Yes, as soon as I can," Lucien told him. "What have I missed?"

"Unfortunately not much, sir," said Manifold. "We see planes flying overhead all the time now, heading toward Changi, it appears."

"It seems everything is on hold until Singapore surrenders so the port there can be opened to ships. Supplies in, evacuees out," said Spencer.

"So Changi hasn't been evacuated yet."

"No, and I've been told we should move everyone there as soon as possible."

"Well, then," said Lucien, preparing to stand. "Let's move out."

"First thing tomorrow," said Spencer. "Rest up, eat what you can and drink plenty of water. It'll be a long trek.

* * *

5 September, 1945

The 5th Division of the Indian Army reached Changi by mid-morning. Not recognizing the uniforms as Australian or British, the children who spotted them shouted and ran away, but the soldiers in the camp welcomed them warmly.

The Indians were clearly shocked at the condition of the prisoners. They were quick to share their rations and medical supplies, and once the children were reassured they meant no harm, the newly arrived troops went to great lengths to help them in any way possible.

The senior British officer remaining at Selerang came over to announce that it would be a few days more before they could be repatriated to their home countries. They were waiting for the Japanese commander in Singapore to sign the papers relinquishing the city back to British control. Ships were already steaming toward the port in anticipation of that occurrence.

Now that they knew what to expect, the internees settled down and were patient to wait. It was easy enough to blame the delay on the Japanese, since they had been blaming them for all the ills of the past four years.

Christopher and Jack were fascinated by the Indian troops, and Jean was content to let them spend time with the newcomers, who let the boys crawl over their vehicles, look through their field glasses, and eat their rations. The only limitation she put on them was to stay within the confines of the camp gates.

For her part, Jean kept one eye trained on the road. Each time a form appeared in the distance, she held her breath until the man was close enough to identify. And each time she had to mask her disappointment when it wasn't Lucien.

The Indians had been there for five days when she spotted a group of Australian soldiers coming up the road. As they got closer she recognized them - four of the men who had been part of the work detail with Lucien.

She hailed them and noticed them exchange glances before they came over to speak with her. She addressed the most senior of them. "Excuse me, Lieutenant..."

"Beaufort, ma'am," he informed.

"Yes, Lieutenant Beaufort. Are you all right?"

He nodded. "We were assigned to repair a railroad," he explained. "Then all the guards deserted after the surrender."

"What about the rest of the men who were with you?" asked Jean.

Beaufort shrugged. "A few of them went hunting Japanese, but we were told to come back here, so we did."

"Do you know what happened to Captain Blake?" she asked, holding her breath.

Were those guilty glances they kept exchanging?

"Um, he was injured," Beaufort said slowly. "On the way out there. He tried to save Baker, but the guards didn't like that. They beat him pretty badly."

Jean's heart stopped. "Is he...?"

"Dead? I don't really know. Last I saw, he was alive. He was unconscious with his back infected, though."

Again the guilty look.

Jean was aghast. "You left him back there like that? Aren't you a medic?"

"We were told to come here," said Beaufort, in what sounded like a whine.

She repeated, "So you left him there, sick and injured?"

"There was a doctor with them. It isn't like we abandoned him to fend for himself in that condition."

That information eased Jean's mind somewhat but she wasn't about to let Lieutenant Beaufort wriggle out of his responsibility. "If you had been the one 'in that condition', do you think he would have left you there, no matter what he was told? He was your commanding officer. Didn't he deserve your loyalty?"

All four men looked extremely uncomfortable under her questioning. She glared at them for a long minute, then said sharply, "Thank you, Lieutenant."

They took that as a dismissal and hurried away from her scrutiny.

Jean took a deep breath. He had been alive as of a few days ago, and there was a doctor treating him. If his condition was that bad, though, there didn't seem to be much chance he would be walking down the road any time soon. Was there any point in trying to wait for him here? As much as she longed to know for certain that he had made it through, could she really justify keeping her sons here any longer when they were so eager to experience all that freedom had to offer?

* * *

Captain Spencer rounded up the few men remaining from the work detail, and with stretchers to carry the two non-ambulatory patients they set off for Changi. Spencer wanted Lucien on a stretcher as well, but with only eight men in any condition to act as stretcher bearers, Lucien thought they would all move faster if there were only two stretchers so that they could swap off frequently.

When he was not carrying a stretcher, Manifold walked beside Lucien to keep an eye on him. Lucien preferred to think of it as a junior officer accompanying his commander. He was insistent that he was 'fine', no need to worry about him. He even made it a point to help Spencer keep the two patients' condition stable. Anything to expedite the journey.

They stopped for the night much earlier than Lucien would have preferred, but he couldn't ignore that the stretcher bearers were exhausted. After helping Spencer to check on the two ill men, Lucien sank down to the ground, more tired than he had ever been.

Manifold handed him a canteen, and gratefully Lucien took a few sips before handing it back.

"Drink up, sir. There's plenty," Manifold assured him.

Lucien nodded and drank his fill. "How are you holding up, Lieutenant?" he asked.

"Pretty good, sir. I'll be glad to see the last of this place, though. Do you think they'll send us back home?"

"I'm sure you'll be given the option. None of us is in any condition to resume active duty right away. Most likely you'll be able to leave the Army shortly."

"Good," said Manifold. "If nothing else, I've learned I'm not really officer material. I think the only reason they gave me a commission was because I attended university."

"What will you do?"

"I trained as a teacher. Western literature. Maybe teach dramatics as well. What about you, sir? Will you stay in the Army?"

"If they'll allow me to resign, I'm thinking a small medical practice in a nice country town might be just the ticket." Lucien smiled. "Teaching, family medicine, it all seems quite tame after what we've been through, doesn't it?"

"Yes, sir. But I think 'tame' sounds just fine to me now."

"It does, doesn't it?" He sighed. "We'd better get some rest. "If we aren't held up, we might just make it to Changi by nightfall tomorrow."

* * *

It sounded like thunder to those who were no longer accustomed to the roar of vehicle engines. The convoy of lorries rumbled into the parade ground in the middle of the afternoon. The Australian sergeant in charge was a no-nonsense type.

"I have my orders," he shouted to the assembled internees. "All civilians in this first load. We'll be back in two days to evacuate the troops. Let's hop to it now."

There was an immediate scramble as everyone rushed to gather their few belongings.

Mindful that once again they might be required to carry their own baggage, Jean picked through what they had, deciding she would only take one change of clothing for each of them, the best that they had left, which would be worn as they finally stepped onto Australian soil. Most of the rest of their clothes were so patched and mended anyway that they were scarcely decent. She had managed to save minuscule amounts of lipstick and face powder, which she had saved for just that same occasion.

She wondered about the survival manual. There would be little use for it in Ballarat, but besides her wedding ring, it was the only thing she had left from Christopher. In the end, she decided she would keep it. It could be passed on to one of their sons some day as a memento of his fanther.

The boys gathered up the toys they had received at Christmas - their most prized possessions. Christopher played a happy little tune on the flute before tucking it into his pocket.

"Maybe we can find a way to get you some music lessons back home," Jean told him. He seemed to have a talent that should be nurtured, she thought. "Would you like that?"

He nodded, sharing one of his rare smiles. "Do you think Doctor Blake could teach me?"

"Me, too," said Jack, not wanting to be left out where the doctor was concerned.

"We'll have to see," said Jean, in her mind picturing Lucien seated at a piano bench with the boys on either side, watching intently. _Oh, if only..._

Jack picked up the "ball" they used for their football games. "What about this?" he asked.

"Leave it," said Jean. "I'm sure there will be plenty of real balls back home. We're only taking what we need, sweetheart."

"Oh," said Jack. "Teddy can stay then. I don't need him any more."

"No!" Jean and Christopher said at the same time. Jean reached for the worn stuffed toy that had definitely seen better days. When Jack looked puzzled, she told him, "Teddy actually has a secret. When we get to Australia I'll show you, but we have to make sure he gets there safely, understood?"

Jack nodded. He loved secrets, so he would take very good care of the toy until then.

The sergeant's booming voice could be heard from outside. "All right, let's go, you lot. On the road before dark. Time to load up."

Jean lifted the rucksack that had originally contained all the belongings they'd brought with them to this place years before. It was much lighter now. Very little remained of their old life, but they had made it through, this little family of hers. She was grateful indeed, but her thoughts couldn't help turning to Lucien. She had found strength and resourcefulness in the midst of the horror and deprivation, and she had also found love. As she settled herself beside her sons in the back of the final lorry in the queue, she prayed that she hadn't also lost that love here.

* * *

The long trek the previous day had taken a lot out of Lucien. He knew he needed to get to Changi - it was his singular focus. But his body rebelled against being taxed so severely after the recent fever. He was shaking as he braced himself against a tree in order to get to his feet. Even then his legs threatened to give out. He took a long drink of water, then poured some over his head. He shook it out of his eyes and his mind cleared.

"Are you okay, sir?" Manifold asked.

"Top notch," Lucien assured him, and he felt better just saying it. When the others were ready to go, he led the way. He was determined to reach Changi by day's end.

And at times the day seemed endless. Before long he was just concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. He kept his mind focused on Jean, how he would let her know he was still alive, reassure her of his devotion, repeat his promise to meet her in Ballarat as soon as he found Li.

Finally, after what seemed far too long, the gates of the prison came into view. Lucien saw both Australian and British soldiers keeping a rather lax watch there. Finding a burst of strength at the idea of seeing Jean, he hurried over to them and identified himself. "Captain Lucien Blake. I was in charge of the Australian enlisted men's camp," he told the soldiers. "I would like to see someone in the women's camp, if I may."

"Sorry, Captain." One of them pointed down the road in the opposite direction from which Lucien and the others had come. "You just missed them. Lorries pulled out not ten minutes ago."


	20. Chapter 20

_Author's Note: Once again, thank you for all the lovely reviews, and especially to the guest reviewers that I haven't been able to thank personally._

 _This chapter picks up immediately after the end of the previous one._

Lucien sagged at the news, grabbing on to one of the gate posts to remain upright. The adrenaline that had been fueling him for the past two days left him completely when he heard he was too late to see Jean.

Manifold hurried over to aid him. "Maybe you should lie down, sir," he suggested.

"Soon," Lucien promised him.

He started into the camp, but one of the soldiers on guard spoke up. "Captain, all of the remaining POWs are over in Selerang. Running water, hot meals, actual bunks, that sort of thing."

"Thank you, Private. All of that sounds lovely, and I'll head over there just as soon as I check on a few things in our old quarters."

"Do you want some company, sir?" Manifold asked him quietly.

"That won't be necessary, Lieutenant. Thank you for your assistance. Why don't you go get yourself something to eat? I'll join your shortly."

He went through the gate, into the parade ground at the center of the camps. It felt like a ghost town from the Wild West films he'd loved as a boy, but these ghosts were from his own memories.

His eyes went to the women's camp, and he imagined he could see Christopher, Jack, and the other children playing a furious football match while Jean stood in the doorway, smiling and nodding at him.

He passed the door that covered that damned hole in the ground where he nearly lost his sanity and his life.

He reached the gate surrounding their former barracks and stared at the spot where Derek had made that startling revelation before dying in his arms. Derek. He should collect his dogtags and those of the others they'd buried out back, turn them in so their families could be formally notified.

With a heavy heart he went out to the makeshift cemetery and noted with dismay that there were two new graves there. He worked his way toward them, picking up the other identifying markers as he went. In the back of his mind he composed a map of the location of each plot so the Army would be able to inform any relatives of where to find their loved ones' remains.

Reaching the first of the new graves, he pulled off the dogtags and looked to see who it was. Evans. He should have known. Without quinine the poor chap never stood a chance. Even if Lucien had been there to treat him, Evans was probably doomed.

With deep sadness at the waste of life he pocketed the tags then moved on to the last grave, wondering who this unfortunate devil was. He bent down to lift off the identification and peered at it. No, it couldn't be! This had to be a mistake. He looked again, but there was no mistake. Dent, Henry.

He groaned in pain and sank to his knees. Not Henry. He was supposed to be safe here. He was supposed to outlast this damned war. He was supposed to survive!

Tears streamed down Lucien's face as he knelt in the dirt and mourned his friend. Good, kind, loyal, brave Henry. Patient to a fault, even in the face of Derek's taunts. Why him? Had this war robbed the world of all goodness? Why?

He didn't know how long he stayed there, lamenting the loss of the man who'd been like a brother to him, but the sun was setting when he finally stirred himself.

He stood up and addressed the grave. "Farewell, my friend. I hope you've found peace and understanding in a better world than this one."

Still rubbing his fingers gently over Henry's dogtags, he went inside the barracks to the pallet where Henry had slept. His belongings were all there, neatly piled on top. Lucien went through them, looking for things of a personal nature. He wanted to contact Henry's loved ones to express his deep sorrow at the loss of such an honourable man. There was a small pasteboard box of correspondence. These letters must have been important to him, that he'd managed to keep them safe through everything that had happened.

Lucien pulled one out to get the contact information he would need. Scanning it, he saw it was a love letter, signed by someone named Philippe. Carefully, Lucien set the letter itself back in the box, but he tucked the envelope into his own rucksack. He would write to Philippe as soon as he could manage. In the meantime, no one else needed to know the secret that Henry had asked him to respect.

Tucking the box of letters under his arm, he took it out to Henry's grave. The dirt was still soft enough that he could easily dig into it with his hands. He buried the love letters beside Henry's body.

* * *

The Beazley family was squeezed tightly into the back of the last lorry in the procession headed east toward Singapore. The back of the lorry had benches along each side, and Jean was seated at the very rear, with Jack between her and Christopher. Although some of the other passengers were grumbling at the tight accommodations, the boys were so fascinated to be in a moving motor vehicle that they were content to just sit and look. Even though from their vantage point they could see very little but the road disappearing behind them.

Jean had a slightly better view, her line of sight encompassing a wider angle into the jungle they were passing through. She was just about to suggest Jack sit in her lap to see more when she caught sight of some Australian soldiers just off the side of the road. They appeared to be shouting at a Japanese soldier who was on his knees with his hands bound behind him. One of the Australians wielded a huge sword of some kind. With a start, Jean recognized the man as Evelyn's friend, Harry Morris.

Evelyn was in the same lorry, seated closer to the front, but before Jean could call her attention to him, Private Morris swung the sword directly at the Japanese prisoner's head. Jean gasped and looked away at the last moment, gasping in horror. Her stomach turned over, and bile rose in her throat. She stared at Evelyn. She couldn't say anything now, in front of the boys, but if Evelyn had plans to remain involved with the man, Jean would have to tell her exactly what kind of man he was.

As always, Christopher saw her distress. "Mum?" he said softly.

Jean fought to regain her composure. She managed a tight smile. "It's all right," she assured him. "Just some animals in the jungle."

He seemed to doubt her explanation but was sensitive enough not to question her further in front of Jack.

They rode on, into the darkness, and it was very late by the time they stopped, in Singapore, Jean assumed. Jack had been sleeping on her lap, while Christopher's head rested against her shoulder with her arm around him.

The cessation of the movement and of the lorry's engine woke them both. They blinked blearily at her, questioning. "I think we're in Singapore," she told them. "We'll stay here tonight."

"Then what happens, Mum?" Jack asked through his yawn.

"We'll get on a ship to go to Australia, as soon as there's one available," she explained.

The lorry driver came around to the back to let them out and help them down. "There's a lieutenant just over there," he pointed. "He'll show you where you can get some supper and where you'll sleep tonight."

"Thank you," said Jean, lifting Jack into her arms while Christopher followed, wide-eyed and curious.

The lieutenant, a baby-faced charmer by the name of Coleman, explained that they would be fed and housed here for the night. On the morrow, each person would receive a medical examination from an Army doctor. Those who were considered healthy enough would be provided passage to Darwin, with connections from there to the rest of the country, or indeed the world.

They were directed into the mess hall, an expansive room with long tables and benches alongside them for seating. The food smelled wonderful, the scent even rousing Jack who had fallen asleep again. Jean couldn't remember the last time she'd had roasted meat.

They sat down together on one of the benches, and Jean noticed Jack staring at the cutlery as though trying to remember. Before she could speak to him, Christopher said to him, "Don't worry. I'll show you."

And as soon as the food was placed in front of them, he picked up a knife and fork, demonstrating their use. Jack watched, but the use of the knife seemed to defeat him.

"I used to have trouble cutting my meat when I was your age," Jean assured him. The last thing the boy needed was to be frustrated with his food after such a long period of near-starvation. She sliced it into appropriately sized portions for him before starting on her own meal.

"Good?" she asked them both.

Jack nodded enthusiastically, but Christopher was more reserved. "It tastes good to have real meat, but it's not as good as what you used to make for us."

"It doesn't seem to have much seasoning," Jean agreed.

Lieutenant Coleman was patrolling the area to assist where he could, and he overheard the remarks. "I'm afraid that's deliberate," he told them. "It wouldn't do to have anything too spicy or rich so soon."

"I see. Yes, you're probably right," said Jean. She would have to keep an eye on that for a while, she thought.

Coleman continued, "Best to eat slowly, too, the doctors advise. Take your time, and when you've had enough, I'll have someone escort you to your quarters for the night. You'll have a place to freshen up. How does a warm shower sound?"

"Like heaven," Jean admitted.

"Well, then, eat up and we'll see what we can do."

* * *

Lucien awoke, confused and disoriented. He had no idea where he was or how he'd gotten there. He tried to push himself up from his prone position, but his arms refused to support him. He groaned in frustration, vowing that when he got out of the war and returned to normal life, he would never allow himself to get into such sorry shape ever again.

His groan of frustration brought him some attention. A doctor in an American Army uniform was soon at his side. "Take it easy, Captain," he said.

"Where am I? What happened?"

"You're in the Selerang barracks infirmary," the doctor told him. "You must have passed out over in the Aussie enlisted men's camp. Lieutenant Manifold found you there when he went looking because you didn't make it here."

"What's wrong with me?"

"You want a list? Mainly you have a fever from the infected wounds on your back. You're also dehydrated and malnourished, like everyone else who was in this place."

"When can I get out of here?"

"You're a lousy patient, like every other doctor I ever treated," the Yank told him. "Plans are to have this whole place cleared out within the week, evacuating everybody to Singapore. Looks like you could use a trip to the hospital, so you'll be in the first batch out of here."

"Singapore. That's good," said Lucien, already planning how to start his search for Li.

"If you feel like it, I can get you something to eat, and you have a couple guys waiting to see you."

"Yes, on both counts," said Lucien.

The doctor helped him sit up, propping some pillows behind him to ease the pressure on his back, then disappeared into what Lucien assumed was a corridor outside the open ward where his bed was. He looked around at the other patients, trying to diagnose them by sight alone as he waited to see who had come to visit. He couldn't help but think it should have been Henry Dent.

It turned out to be Lieutenant Manifold and Private Bartell. Lucien smiled at old Sid, finding it a bit ironic that the oldest man in the camp had made it through to the end of the war. He knew Bartell had also served in the Great War, even saw action at Fromelles. The man was truly a survivor.

"How are you doing, sir?" Manifold asked.

"I'll be right as rain in no time," Lucien assured him. "Thank you for going to check on me. I'm afraid I don't even remember what happened."

Manifold held up a handful of dogtags. "You were holding these, sir. Evans didn't make it? Or Dent?"

He and Lucien both looked to Sid for an explanation. The older man looked down at his hands that were clasped in front of him. "Evans became worse, his malaria," he began, his voice low. "Dent got worried he wouldn't last through the night."

Lucien closed his eyes, knowing what was coming. "He tried to break into the stores to get quinine."

Sid nodded. "We tried to talk him out of it, but he said he couldn't just wait for Evans to die. Sorry, Cap."

"It isn't your fault," Lucien told him sincerely. "He knew the risks but must have thought it was worth trying. I know the feeling."

"If you want to put him in for a medal, l'll say what happened," Sid offered.

"Thank you. I think that's a good idea. His bravery should be recognized."

"Yes, sir. Anyway, that's why I came. I thought you ought to know what happened."

"I appreciate that, Sid. Thank you."

Manifold spoke up. "You'd better take these, sir." He handed over the collection of dogtags. "And your rucksack is just here." He opened the door at the front of a cabinet beside the bed. "Shall I put them in there for you?"

"Please do," said Lucien. His energy was quickly waning. "And perhaps you could let the doctor know I'm not really up to eating right now."

"Yes, sir." The two men helped Lucien roll over onto his front. "Good night, Captain."

* * *

Jean had enjoyed her shower immensely, luxuriating in the warm water and real soap. At the same time, Christopher had helped Jack As they shared their own shower. She could hear the two of them laughing together, and her heart swelled at the thought of their happiness. They all had much to look forward to in the days ahead.

It was very late when they finished showering, so she took the boys to the beds assigned to them, stopping on the way to point out her own bed. They were all little more than cots, but still far more than the three of them were accustomed to. Despite the nap they'd had in the back of the lorry, the boys fell asleep quickly. Once she was sure they were sleeping soundly, she went to her own space, and after saying some quick prayers, including one asking God to keep Lucien safe, she climbed into bed. She spent a while ruminating about what lay ahead before finally dropping off.

She awoke to someone tapping her shoulder. It was very dark, so she knew it was still late. She squinted into the darkness, and saw it was Christopher and Jack standing beside her cot.

"What's going on?" she whispered.

"Jack doesn't like sleeping alone," Christopher whispered back, as Jack stood beside him and nodded.

Jean understood. They both had slept beside her for all their time in captivity. She supposed they would have plenty of time to adjust once they were all back in Ballarat. She scooted over to make room, and they quickly climbed in beside her. After that, the remainder of the night was uneventful.

In the morning, again they all enjoyed the luxury of washing before eating a hearty breakfast. The next stop was the infirmary for medical examinations. Overall, their health was decent. Jean was given a bottle of vitamins for herself and another one for the boys. She was reminded to limit the amount of rich and spicy food, reintroducing it slowly into their diet. On the other hand, protein was encouraged, especially for the boys. She was also warned to expect behavioral issues for all three of them: sleep difficulties, nightmares, aggression, and other emotional problems.

They were cleared then for repatriation on the first ship leaving for Australia. Finally they were going home. As they boarded the ship later that day, Jean was happy to leave the Malay Peninsula behind. She couldn't help but feel, though, that she was also leaving Lucien behind.


	21. Chapter 21

For days, in Selerang and after he was moved to Singapore, Lucien remained lost in his fevered dreams. Horror after horror played out in his mind.

He watched helplessly as Henry was beheaded by the Butcher.

Jean was thrown into the hole, and when he tried to aid her by singing to her, he was whipped mercilessly.

Christopher and Jack were marched away, with Jean screaming for him to help them, but the most he could do was try to crawl after them, calling out for them to do their best.

His father watched impassively as Lucien was dragged toward the hole.

He held Jean in his arms as she told him she loved him before dying of bullet wounds.

His cries and shouts and moans of agony disturbed the others on the hospital ward until finally they moved him into a tiny separate room with a door that closed. He woke a few times, alone, and thought the walls were closing in on him. The doctors in Singapore discussed the possibility of flying him back to Australia by airplane, but it was deemed too dangerous. Instead they gave him fluids intravenously, packed ice around him and hoped the fever would break before he suffered brain damage.

* * *

For Jean, the passage home was a kind of horror all its own. The women and children had large communal cabins, with up to a dozen assigned to each one. The Beazleys shared with, among others, Susan Tyneman, Rosemary Morrisey, Frances Trevorrow, and, thankfully, Eve Neville. Susan, Rosemary and Frances spent their days complaining about the children's noise and the company in general, as well as the nerve of the ship's officers to separate them from their husbands. When the ladies started going on about their treatment by everyone since liberation from the camp, Jean wanted to give them a piece of her mind, but Eve would make soft clucking noises instead. Jean agreed that the women acted very much like brooding hens. Then the two of them would have to stifle their laughter.

The boys were eager to flaunt their freedom, running up and down corridors, stairways and decks with the other children from the camp, until the officers made clear over the public address system that there would be punishments if their parents could not control them. Jean was exhausted and at her wits' end over how to contain them when a young POW from Selerang took them under his wing. Sergeant Ron Jackson kept them entertained by telling them stories, playing games, reading to them. All the things that Jean was too weary to do for her boys. Just the thought of everything she had to face when they made it to Ballarat left her worn out and overwhelmed.

Eve tried to reassure her, but after years of having her life totally defined by the fight for survival each day, the decisions before her now left Jean uncertain and insecure. She had always considered herself a strong woman, but now she felt completely inadequate. How would she possibly cope? She prayed that her sister would be at the dock to meet her, since Jean didn't even know how they would get to Mary's house from the train station. Or even if Mary had ever received her postcard and was expecting them.

She told herself that she still had the valuables hidden inside Jack's teddy bear, but how could she turn those into the money she would need to get by? She and the boys needed so many things to manage everyday life, after almost all their possessions had been lost along the way.

At night, after the boys were asleep, she allowed the tears to fall. She hated feeling so helpless, and she despised the weakness in herself. What did she have to offer any man, especially one like Lucien? If he had survived, as she prayed nightly that he did, surely he would see that he could do so much better than a penniless and useless widow with two young boys in tow. Then, when she finally fell asleep, Lucien would come to her in dreams, with his kind eyes, easy smile, and encouraging words, telling her how strong she was and how much he admired her. For a time at least, she felt like her old self, ready to do whatever was necessary.

On the last morning before they were due to dock in Darwin, while she was still feeling the strength she gained from her dreams of Lucien, she made her way to the cabin where Evelyn was quartered. Evelyn was looking as though she had a touch of seasickness, so Jean suggested a walk on deck. Evelyn nodded gratefully at the thought of fresh air.

Once they were outside, Jean started with small talk. "Will there be someone to meet you when we arrive?"

Evelyn nodded. "I'm from Darwin," she explained. "No doubt my father will meet me at the docks."

"That must be reassuring," said Jean.

"Yes. My father would do almost anything for me. I can rely on him."

"Do you have any plans, what you'll do going forward?" asked Jean, angling to see if she was planning to meet up with Harry.

"Oh, no, not really," Evelyn said with a sigh. "I suppose I'll find employment eventually. And you?"

"I'll have to find something right away," Jean admitted.

"I thought you and Captain Blake had an understanding," said Evelyn.

"We agreed to meet up in Ballarat, but nothing more than that," Jean said. It was the truth, no matter what more they'd both said with their eyes and their hearts. "What about you and Harry?"

Evelyn grimaced. "No, I won't be seeing _him_ again. The night before they left on that march he told me he's married with a little boy. I told him exactly what I thought of him. I don't know what kind of woman he thought I was."

"Oh, that's ... disappointing," said Jean. She decided not to convey just what kind of man she now knew for a fact that Harry was. It would only upset Evelyn, serving no other purpose.

"I wish you all the best, Evelyn," said Jean. "If you're ever in Ballarat..."

"Thank you, Jean. I might just look you up if I'm down that way. Good luck to you as well."

Jean could walk away with her conscience clear. She needn't worry about that dreadful man any longer.

* * *

The doctors in the Singapore military hospital were getting more concerned the longer Lucien's infection and fever persisted. He had only rare moments of lucidity in which he mentioned two names over and over: "Jean" and "Lee". They decided they should notify his next of kin of his condition. Not that they would be allowed into Singapore - too many Japanese soldiers in the area that had not yet acknowledged their emperor's surrender. It was still considered a war zone. But it might prepare them for the worst, if he succumbed to his injuries. The irony was not lost on them that he had survived years of torture, neglect and starvation but now might not survive the aftermath when peace had been declared.

They requested his records to contact anyone named "Jean" or "Lee", only to find no mention of "Jean" or even "Gene" and only a young daughter named "Li" with no indication of her whereabouts. Listed as his next of kin was a wife, now known to be deceased. They would have to dig deeper.

His hometown was shown as Singapore, so he had been posted here before the war, but as they looked back into his schooling, they noted he had attended Ballarat West for a time, before boarding school in Melbourne. Perhaps someone in Ballarat might still know of any family he might have. They decided to write to the authorities in Ballarat and hope for the best.

* * *

It was very early in the morning when the Australian Army transport ship prepared for docking in its final destination, Adelaide. Most of its remaining passengers were on deck peering into the crowd and hoping to see a familiar face. Jean and her boys were among them, with Jean scanning everyone waiting there, praying she would spot Mary and frantically trying to formulate a way forward if Mary wasn't there.

The Tynemans were on the deck a few feet away from her, and they called out when they spotted Patrick's parents, Michael and Roslyn, standing apart from the mass of people. Jean looked in that direction. Was that Lucien's father with them? Surely he didn't think Lucien was on board. _Oh, if only..._ she thought to herself. She could get through all of this if he were by her side.

She continued to study the crowd, hoping against hope that she would see Mary. Her hopes and prayers proved to be in vain - no Mary to be seen. Jean felt like crying. If the boys hadn't been beside her she might have collapsed on the deck in tears. Instead, she stiffened her spine, picked up her bag and spoke to her sons. "Let's go home, shall we?"

"Is this Ballarat?" Jack asked.

"No, it's Adelaide," Christopher told him. "Ballarat is on the other side of the country."

Oh. How do we get there? Do we have to walk?"

"No, sweetheart. It's much too far to walk. We need to find the Red Cross building first. They're supposed to provide us tickets to get to Ballarat."

Dutifully the boys took their bags and followed her off the ship, down to the dock. There she looked in both directions, wondering how to locate the quarters for the Red Cross. Before she could decide which direction to start off in, the elder Doctor Blake approached her.

"Mrs. Beazley, how do you do? I'm Thomas Blake," he told her.

She managed a smile for him. She couldn't see much of Lucien in him. The set of his jaw, maybe? "How do you do, Doctor Blake?" she began slowly. "You know that your son isn't here?"

His smile faltered. "Yes, my dear, I know," he said. "I'm here on behalf of your sister, Mary. I'm afraid she couldn't be here herself, so I told her I would be happy to see you back safely to Ballarat."

"But why...?" she began, not quite understanding.

"Mary and I have become friends," he explained. "We share any news we receive. When she told me you and your sons would be arriving and how much she wished she could be here to welcome you home, I offered to come in her stead."

"That's very kind of you, Doctor. Thank you."

He looked down at the boys. "And you must be Christopher and Jack." He shook each of their hands. Christopher nodded solemnly, and Jack grinned. "Your cousins Amy and Danny are looking forward to seeing you," he told them.

"Me, too," said Jack.

"Now, we have over an hour before our train leaves. Shall we get a bite to eat while waiting? We'll have a full breakfast on the train."

"Yes, please," said Christopher.

"Can we have ice cream?" asked Jack, his blue eyes shining. There hadn't been any available on the ship, and he was still eager to try Christopher's favourite food.

"It's a bit early for that, but I think we might find some, if your mother has no objection," said the doctor.

"Just a taste," said Jean. "It was recommended that we limit rich foods for a while," she explained.

"Yes, of course. Quite right. We'll order a small bowl for everyone to share, perhaps with some tea?"

"Perfect," said Jean.

"Well, then, if you'll come along with me, we'll find a porter first to take your things directly to the train," he told her. Evidently, he understood that for now she wouldn't object if he managed everything.

The boys handed their belongings to the porter, including the teddy bear until Jean insisted that it stay with them.

"Can I learn Teddy's secret now?" asked Jack.

"Once we sit down," said Jean.

It was a short walk to the cafe near the train station. Doctor Blake selected a booth at the front of the building, next to the wide windows looking out onto the street. While they waited for their food, both boys had their noses pressed against the glass, fascinated by all the traffic.

Meanwhile, Jean spoke with the doctor. "Have you heard from Lucien?"

He shook his head sadly. "Nothing since the postcard. Would you mind telling me when you last saw him?"

Jean explained about seeing him leave with the work detail. "I was told he was alive several days ago, but quite ill. That's the last news I had of him. But, oh!" She remembered the letter hidden in the stuffed toy. "Doctor, he asked me to give you something for him. Do you have a pocket knife or something similar?"

She reached for the toy. "Jack, do you want to see Teddy's secret?"

Using the doctor's tiny penknife she opened up the stitches she'd sewed to hold his stuffing in place. With the doctor and the boys watching, she pulled out all the treasures hidden inside him, including Lucien's missive to his father.

"Very clever, Mrs. Beazley," the doctor complimented her while Jack's eyes were wide with surprise.

She handed over the letter.

"Would you mind terribly if I read it now?" he asked. "Not very polite of me, I know, but..."

"Please do," she urged him, eager for any news of his son.

He pulled out his spectacles and put them on, just as their tea and ice cream arrived.

"I'll pour while you read, shall I?" she suggested.

"If you would be so kind." He scanned the letter quickly before his eyes returned to the top to read it more carefully. Jean saw tears rise in his eyes as he finished. "Have you read this?" he asked her.

She raised one eyebrow, feeling somewhat insulted. "It was addressed to you, Doctor," she pointed out.

"Yes, of course, please forgive me. I only thought he might have showed it to you."

"He didn't," she said firmly.

"I do apologize. It wasn't my intention to doubt your character, Mrs. Beazley. My son speaks very highly of you, as does your sister."

Somewhat mollified, Jean said more gently, "I assume he told you that his plan was to find his daughter and bring her back to Ballarat. At least that's what he told me of his intentions."

"Yes, he does say that was what he meant to do if he survived the war." Doctor Blake looked up at her, the tears very much in evidence. "I didn't even know I had a granddaughter. Lucien and I have been, well, estranged for several years, I'm afraid. He says he would like it if we could put our differences behind us, and there is nothing in the world I want more than that."

"I didn't know," Jean said softly. "How hard it must have been for you, not knowing if he was alive or dead all this time."

"No more than I deserve. I made so many mistakes with Lucien." He looked down at the letter again as he attempted to regain his composure. "But that's better kept for another day. How is the ice dream, young man?" he asked Jack.

"Cold!" said Jack. "But I like it! You were right, Chris. Have some, Mum."

To humour him, Jean took a spoonful. "Lovely," she assured him, and it was. Such a simple pleasure denied to them all for so long.

When the ice cream had disappeared and the tea consumed gratefully, Doctor Blake insisted it was his treat. He paid the bill and escorted them all across the street to the railway station.

The train would take all day just to reach Melbourne, the doctor explained. Once there, they would spend the night in a hotel before boarding another train that would take them all to Ballarat.

The boys were excited to ride on a train, and to make it even more memorable for them, Doctor Blake spoke to the conductor and arranged for them to spend some time in the engine with the driver.

Jean smiled to see them so happy. She and the doctor settled into their seats. "Thank you for that," she told him.

"It was my pleasure." He grew solemn. "When Lucien was a boy, he begged me to let him see the engine. I remember telling him to stop being so childish. But he _was_ a child." He shook his head. "I have so much to make up for, if I only have the chance."

Jean felt his pain. "Over the past few years, I've had a lot of time to regret everything I ever denied my boys," she told him. "But in the end we just do the best we can for them, don't we?"

"You're very wise, my dear," he said gently. "While the boys are out of earshot, I thought we might talk, if that's all right."

"Of course," Jean said, somewhat warily. What did she and the doctor have to talk about, aside from Lucien.

"As I mentioned earlier, I've come to know your sister Mary quite well. I've visited her home several times, and frankly it will be a tight squeeze to have all of you living there."

Jean was about to interrupt, but he held up a hand. "Please allow me. You see, I happen to have a very large house, much too large for one old man. I thought perhaps you might come and stay with me, at least until you decide what you want to do next."

"Oh." Jean was taken aback by his kindness, but not entirely sure she could or would accept his offer. At one time she would have been most concerned about appearances, a widowed woman living with a widower. Tongues would surely wag. But after nearly four years of hell, she had come to realize how little wagging tongues really mattered.

Her reservations were more fundamental. It seemed too much like charity. It was one thing to accept assistance from her sister - family always came first. But she barely knew Doctor Blake, despite the fact she was in love with his son.

"It's very kind of you to offer, Doctor, but..." she began.

"But you think you need to earn your own way," he completed her thought.

She only nodded, torn between her pride and her despair at how they would go forward.

"Well, then, how about this," he continued. "Would you be willing to take a position as my live-in housekeeper?"

"You don't already have a housekeeper?" asked Jean, raising an eyebrow. As a widower and a professional man, surely he didn't look after himself, especially in such a large house.

"Mrs. Trent has looked after me for many years, but she wants to retire, go live with her son in Sydney. The only reason she hasn't left already is that she doesn't want to leave me to my own devices. So you would be doing a favour for both Mrs. Trent and myself if you would take the position. Plenty of space for your sons, and they would be able to adjust at their own rate. And within walking distance of your sister's home, so they will still be able to see their cousins."

"You make a strong case," Jean admitted.

"Why don't you think it over and let me know when you've decided," he told her gently. "I'm sure I can convince Mrs. Trent to stay on until you feel well enough to take on her duties, and she can show you how she handles everything. In any case, maybe you would be willing to stay with me until you decide, and of course your salary would commence as soon as you begin with Mrs. Trent."

Jean smiled. He really was very kind. Like his son. It was difficult to believe the two of them could have been at odds for so long. "It's a very tempting offer, Doctor. The welfare of my sons is my first concern, of course, so I will need to see the house. If I'm certain it will be a good place to raise them, I think I would like to take you up on that."

"Excellent. Then we'll go directly there when we reach Ballarat. In the meantime if you have any questions, I'll be happy to answer them."

Jean took a deep breath and released it slowly. Suddenly the way ahead looked much brighter. She decided maybe she could do this after all.

 _Author's Note: I apologize that there wasn't much of Lucien in this chapter. We'll see more of him in the next one._


	22. Chapter 22

"We have located a next of kin," said Captain Orton, holding out the missive from Ballarat Police Superintendent Ashby. "Father by the name of Doctor Thomas Blake. I'll send him a letter, shall I?"

Colonel Galleghan nodded, looking down at Lucien as they stood by his bedside in the tiny room. "Let's hope he pulls through. He's a good man, even though the Army will insist on a medical discharge if he does come through this."

"It's true that he's actually a major now?" asked Orton.

"General Percival promoted him at the start of captivity," Galleghan confirmed. "He's due a fortune in back pay, I'd wager."

Orton held up the paper again. "Well, if nothing else, at least we know where to send it if he dies."

Lucien had heard bits and pieces of the conversation, finding it difficult to concentrate when he was actually lucid. "No, it goes to Li," he insisted. My daughter."

"All right, Major Blake," said Galleghan. "Where can we find your daughter?"

"I don't know," he said, his voice filled with anguish.

"Take it easy, Blake," Orton urged him. "You need to get better. First things first."

"May I have some water?"

Orton helped him drink. "The fever's down a bit today. How are you feeling?"

"About like I look, I assume," Lucien managed. "Just need to sleep."

"You do that," Galleghan told him. "Everything else will wait."

* * *

After their early start and the long day on the train, the boys were exhausted, despite the novelty of staying in a hotel. Jean barely managed to get them undressed before they were fast asleep. And she wasn't far behind them. Just the thought that a place to live and suitable employment might already be settled was such a relief that she fell asleep quickly for the first time since they'd boarded that ship. Once again Lucien came to her in dreams and reassured her it would all work out. With the sincerity and love shining in his eyes, how could she doubt him?

In the morning, they had some time before the train would leave for Ballarat. After breakfast, Jean thought it would be a good idea to start shopping for the most necessary items: clothes and shoes for all three of them, and personal care items to replace the tiny ones the Red Cross had provided. Melbourne was bound to have what she needed, but she had no idea where to shop or how to convert her valuables into Australian money.

Disgusted at her own incompetence, she reluctantly asked for Doctor Blake's assistance.

"Well, I'm very much afraid I don't know anywhere in Melbourne to trade in your rings and such, but I know someone in Ballarat who is trustworthy and will give you a fair price. Perhaps you would let me advance you the money for now? If you decide to accept my offer of employment we can make arrangements to deduct it from your salary; if not, you can repay me when you've exchanged your items."

Jean thought it over and decided he was just being a good Christian, helping out someone in need. Because he offered her an alternative for repayment, she judged it was not intended to pressure her into accepting the position in his employment.

"Thank you, Doctor, that's very kind of you," she said at last. "Now I just have to figure out where to shop."

"I think I can help with that."

Jean had visions of a store selling the kind of clothes young Lucien and his mother might have worn, much too fancy for the Beazley family.

Doctor Blake must have seen her hesitation and guessed the reason for it. Surely he ran across people of all income levels in his practice and had some understanding of her situation. He said softly, "It's where my dear wife bought clothing for Lucien to wear at play. He was very hard on his clothing, between sport and his 'scientific' investigations. That boy never met a frog or snake he didn't like."

Jean laughed in delight at the picture he painted.

"Genevieve would say it was impossible to get them clean, so it was useless to buy him anything stylish," the doctor continued. "Why don't you take a look, and if it isn't what you want, we'll find another store."

Jean agreed, and they set off.

Skipping along by her side, Jack looked up at the doctor. "Doctor Blake, _our_ Doctor Blake is your son, right?"

He raised an eyebrow toward Jean.

"My sons have become very attached to your son," she explained. "He's a great favourite with both Christopher and Jack."

"I see. Well, then, Jack, yes. _Your_ Doctor Blake is indeed my son Lucien."

"You're lucky," said Jack. "I like him a lot."

"You're right," said Thomas, with tears in his eyes. "I'm quite lucky that he's my son."

Jean put a comforting hand on his arm. "Maybe there'll be some word of him when you get home," she told the doctor.

The large department store proved to be perfect for Jean's needs. She found shirts and trousers, socks and underthings, even shoes for the boys. Jack was delighted, and even Christopher managed a smile at all his new items. At a word from Doctor Blake, they were allowed to wear their purchases right there.

"Now that you're looking so smart," he told them, "perhaps you'd like to join me for some ice cream at the soda fountain while your mother shops for herself. Mrs. Beazley, this young lady will help you find what you need. The bill will be sent to me at home, so there's no need to worry about settling up."

It was Jean's turn to tear up at his thoughtfulness. She could only nod in appreciation, and he seemed to understand, nodding back at her and smiling before he led the boys away.

* * *

Slowly Lucien's waking moments grew longer and more lucid. His sleep was still disturbed almost continuously by nightmares, which meant he couldn't be moved back onto the ward. But gradually he was allowed to get out of bed for a few minutes at a time and he would walk into the corridors, talking with anyone he met there.

He learned that Colonel Suga had committed suicide a week after Changi was retaken. Lucien wasn't sure how he felt about that. The man had shown Jean some kindness, especially by keeping the guards away from the women's camp. But he had also turned a blind eye to their brutality and allowed the slow starvation of the prisoners.

Many of the guards were in prison awaiting trial for war crimes. Lucien was advised that when he was stronger he would be expected to give statements against them, and he could testify in the trials if he wished. He made it clear he wasn't interested in most of them, but he would be willing to testify against Suzuki, the one known as Bruiser, who had attacked Jean. He would also offer testimony defending Maeda, who had shown him kindness during his punishment in the hole.

He wrestled with the notion of whether he should report Harold Morris for his actions, but then he was told Morris was also dead, killed by a Japanese soldier who wrestled the sword from him before he could behead the man. Lucien felt that, sadly, Morris was a victim of war in the way he had been consumed by the brutality that surrounded him for so long.

In his moments alone, Lucien tried to formulate a plan for finding Li's whereabouts. He was impatient to begin his quest, but traces of the infection in his wounds persisted, and he knew it would only flare up and incapacitate him once again if he didn't continue treatment. He would have to wait for a while more before he could set out. At least he was in Singapore, which would have to be the starting point of his search in any case.

* * *

The taxi pulled up to the front of the imposing home on Mycroft Avenue.

Christopher's eyes were wide as he gazed up at it, while Jack said, "Are we going to live here, Mum?"

"We might," she said, smiling. It certainly looked like a lovely place for the boys to grow up.

"Why don't we take a look inside," the doctor suggested. "See what you think."

The elderly Mrs. Trent opened the door to welcome them inside. As soon as the door had closed behind them, while the Beazleys looked around at the wood paneled foyer with its elegant console table and porcelain vases, Mrs. Trent handed a note to the doctor. "From Chief Superintendent Ashby," she told him.

"I serve as the Ballarat Police Surgeon," Doctor Blake explained, obviously thinking it was related to his official position. But as he read it, it was clearly not about work. "The Army has been in contact with Ashby about Lucien."

"Is he all right?" asked Jean anxiously.

"He's in a military hospital in Singapore. I'm afraid he's doing poorly." He sighed, reading on. "It says I can't go there to be with him, as it's still considered a war zone."

Jean put a hand to her mouth. She could hardly believe that Lucien had survived all that time in the hole, and then the work detail, but now he was in danger.

"What will you do?" she asked.

"According to Doug, that's Chief Superintendent Ashby, I should sit tight for now and await further word."

"The Army has very good doctors," Jean tried to assure him, and herself.

He heaved a large sigh. "Yes, of course, they do. Now, let me show you around, where you can put your things for tonight, and I'm sure we could all use some tea."

"That sounds lovely," said Jean. The more she got to know Doctor Blake, and saw of his home, the more she thought it would be a good fit for all of them. And the best place to wait for Lucien's return, God willing.

They started the tour on the second floor. There were two rooms across from each other that he suggested for the boys, one with a full-sized bed, the other with a more narrow one.

"To begin with, they may want to share the one with the larger bed," Jean observed, thinking that the first few nights might well see them both seeking out her bed again.

"And you might like this one for your own," the doctor continued, opening the door of a lovely room with a gable window looking out onto the garden. "Of course, you would be free to paint and add any other decorations you care to. You'll also find additional furniture in storage up in the attic. You can swap out anything as you see fit."

He also showed her the bathroom, with an elegant claw-footed bathtub. She could picture herself soaking there in a sea of bubbles. Such a small pleasure that now seemed like real luxury.

She looked down to see Jack seeming a bit overwhelmed by it all. She rested a comforting hand on his shoulder and smiled at him. "Would you like to go out and explore the back garden?" she asked him.

He nodded. "Can I play with the lorry our Doctor Blake gave me?" he asked.

"Of course, sweetheart. Just get it from your bag. You know how to find it?"

Again he nodded.

"What about you, Christopher?"

The older boy said, "I think I'd rather stay and see the rest. Jack, you can play with my car, too."

Jean explained, "Lucien carved the toys for them as Christmas gifts. The boys consider them prized possessions."

The doctor lifted an eyebrow in surprise. It seemed he had much to learn about his son.

He opened a few more doors to show her additional bedrooms that were also available, but Jean assured him the ones that had been chosen for them were more than adequate for their needs.

They proceeded downstairs, where he he ushered them through the dining room, sitting room and lounge. "Through there is my surgery and the waiting room," he indicated. "I have a receptionist that comes in three days a week, but she isn't very dependable. I'm afraid I'll need to replace her sooner rather than later."

"That's unfortunate," said Jean, wondering how difficult the position could possibly be.

They both noticed Christopher had stopped and was staring at the old upright piano.

"Have you ever played?" Doctor Blake asked, lifted the lid that concealed the keys.

Christopher shook his head, still looking at it longingly.

"Why don't you give it a go," the doctor suggested, "while I show your mother the kitchen."

Christopher looked up at him, as if to confirm that he really could try it out, then slowly moved over to slide onto the bench. Tentatively he pressed a couple of keys then, gaining confidence, he played a scale. His eyes were shining as he picked out a simple tune.

Jean was clearly impressed. "I don't think he's ever touched a piano before," she said.

"He seems to have a good ear for it," Doctor Blake noted. He ushered her toward the kitchen.

She looked around. Modern stove, large sink, expansive table. Plenty of cookware and serving pieces. Everything much nicer than she was accustomed to. Yes, this would work. She looked out the window to see Jack running around the garden happily, making his toys fly.

"Shall I put the kettle on?" she suggested.

"Please," the doctor said. "Perhaps we can chat while we have our tea. I'm sure you must have questions."

Mrs. Trent joined them and produced the biscuit tin. Jean declined the offered shortbread, remembering the warnings about avoiding rich food.

They were just beginning to sip their tea when the sound of the telephone startled Jean. She was unused to such interruptions.

"I'll see to it," the doctor said, motioning for the ladies to stay seated.

When he was out of the room, Jean spoke to Mrs. Trent. "You're moving away to be near your son?"

"To be near my grandchildren," Mrs. Trent corrected. "As soon as the doctor has someone to look after him."

"He's a good person to work for?"

"Oh, yes, he's a dear, as long as he isn't moping about his boy."

Jean smiled to think of her referring to Lucien as a boy. "You know he offered the position to me?" She wanted to be certain she wasn't pushing the older woman out the door against her wishes.

"I thought he might. I'm ready to leave any time, my dear. I can stay on a few days to show you the ropes, if you'd like."

"Yes, I'd like that, thank you," said Jean, not entirely sure she would be ready to take it all on immediately in any case.

Doctor Blake walked in. "That was your sister, Mary, calling from work to say that she and the children will be over to see you in an hour or so, if you feel up to visitors."

Jean smiled. "They aren't visitors, they're family," she said. "And they may need to get used to coming over here."

"So you've decided to stay?" the doctor said, beaming with pleasure.

"I would be proud and grateful to accept your offer," she told him. "I think this would be a wonderful place to raise my boys."

* * *

Lucien woke from a dream of Jean, and for once it was a pleasant one. The two of them were standing on the banks of Lake Wendouree, watching as Christopher, Jack, and Li tossed bread crusts into the water to feed the swans. For the first time in years he woke with a smile on his face. As a result, he felt much better, stronger even, than he had in days. He knew he was finally on the mend.

Doctor Orton confirmed it a short time later. "Your fever is gone, and your back seems to be healing, Major Blake. We warned your father to prepare for the worst, but it looks like that wasn't necessary. If you just take it easy a while longer we'll get you out of here."

"I'm in favour of that," said Lucien. "I don't suppose I could make a call to Australia, or at least send a telegram."

"Not much chance of a telephone call, but if you want to write out a telegram, I can probably get it sent for you."

"Thank you, Captain. That will be fine."

He thought about what he needed to say to his father, and by extension, to Jean.

Father,

Am recovering Stop

Will be home after finding Li Stop

Best to Beazleys Stop

Lucien

After handing it to Orton and being assured it would reach its destination, he set his mind to a plan for locating his daughter. He decided he would start by going to see what remained of their house in Singapore. Perhaps there was something in it worth salvaging, such as family photos or perhaps something of value that might help finance what was certain to be an expensive expedition. He would check with what had been his bank as well, which might still have records. He suspected they had transferred much of their holdings out of the country once the occupation seemed eminent, so it might be possible to recover some of his money.

Next he would go down to the docks and check with the maritime authorities about any record they might have of the ship on which he'd placed Li. It's original destination had been Manila, but the Japanese had advanced so quickly that the vessel probably never made it that far. It would have changed course, but to where? And had it made land successfully or been sunk? The crew and passengers must have been frantic, so how frightened must little Li have been?

Lucien knew that dwelling on it would only make him unable to think logically, and if he was going to find Li he needed his wits about him.

He thought of the nuns who had accompanied Li on the ship. He could contact the head office of their order. Someone there might be able to tell him if they had survived and where he could reach them.

He tried to remember if there was any other passenger he had recognized that he could track down if he had no luck with locating the good sisters.

His head was pounding by the time he'd gotten that far in his plans, and when Orton returned to assure him the telegram had been sent, he was only too willing to follow the doctor's orders to take a nap.

* * *

Even with a strange bed in a strange room, Jean had thought she'd sleep very well that night, with her immediate future now settled, but her slumber was riddled with bad dreams, dreams of Lucien sick, in pain, and all alone. She tried to call out to him or to reach him, but somehow she couldn't do either. She woke several times, only to fall back into yet another dream of him. A couple of times she got up to check on the boys, but both times they were sleeping soundly, curled up beside each other in the big bed. To Jean, it served to confirm she'd made the correct decision to make this their home.

When she awoke again at just after five A.M. she finally gave up on the idea of sleep. She donned the new pink dressing gown she'd purchased in Melbourne and went into the bathroom, deciding it was just the time for a soak in that bathtub she'd admired. She wished she'd thought to buy bath salts or bubbles, but just the opportunity for a long soak in warm water was enough of a luxury.

Feeling renewed, she dressed, applied the makeup she'd also bought in Melbourne, and fixed her hair. She decided to treat herself to a hairdresser appointment at the first opportunity. The mirror at the vanity table in her new bedroom was another simple pleasure she fully appreciated as she readied for the day ahead.

When she was satisfied that all was in order, she checked to see that the boys were still sleeping then went downstairs.

She put the kettle on, then investigated what was available to prepare for breakfast. The doctor was probably accustomed to eggs and bacon, but that would be too rich yet for herself and the boys. Perhaps tomato sarnies would do, since there didn't seem to be any type of porridge or other hot cereal.

She was starting to make toast when she heard someone outside. Her first reaction was fear, but she reminded herself this was Ballarat, not Changi. She was perfectly safe here. She went to the door and opened it to a young man wearing some kind of uniform. He tipped his hat to her.

"Good morning," she told him. "Can I help you?"

"Good morning, ma'am. Telegram for Doctor Blake," he said, holding out a yellow envelope.

From behind her, she heard the doctor approaching. He still wore his dressing gown. "You're very early," he told the young man.

"Yes, sir. This arrived very late last night. Too late to be delivered then, so I thought I'd try this morning."

"Thank you, Chester," he said, taking the telegram and handing him some coins.

Again the teenager tipped his cap before pocketing the tip and returning to the bicycle he'd left propped against the porch railing.

Closing the door, Doctor Blake indicated a covered enamel box on the small table next to the door. "You'll find coins in here to tip for any deliveries," he told her. "Now, I cant read this without my spectacles. Would you be so kind?"

At first she was taken aback that he would allow her to be aware of his personal business, but she supposed if she was now his housekeeper, she would be privy to much more. Consequently, she opened the envelope and unfolded the flimsy paper inside. At just a glance, she gasped. "It's from Lucien!"

"My word! Is he..."

"He says he's recovering. Oh, thank God." She read him the complete contents, extremely pleased that he had mentioned her and the boys, almost as pleased as she was that he was alive and getting better.

Yes, after so long, things were definitely looking up for both the Blakes and the Beazleys.


	23. Chapter 23

The Beazley family settled into their new home rather easily.

Jack was thrilled by the idea of having his own room, especially after Doctor Blake informed him that it had been his son's room when Lucien was a boy. Some nights Jack still crawled into Christopher's bed, especially if it was raining or the wind was blowing. Or he had a bad dream.

Christopher had fallen in love with the old upright piano, seldom missing a chance to play around with it. Doctor Blake had taken some time one evening to show him how to play a number of chords with his left hand, and it was as though a light had gone on for the boy. Suddenly he could play whole songs rather than the snippets of individual melodies he had managed before.

"The little chap has some talent," Doctor Blake told Jean one evening as they sat in the next room listening. "He could use a real teacher to help him on his way. I'm afraid I don't have the patience for it. I couldn't even teach my own son, I left it to Genevieve."

Jean was surprised at that. She remembered how her Christopher had so looked forward to teaching their boys everything from football to reading a map to shaving. And how Lucien had shown them the way to play their little flutes. It appeared Doctor Blake didn't much enjoy spending time with his son. She prayed that would change when Lucien came home. Otherwise he likely wouldn't stay in this house for very long.

And yet the doctor seemed to spare no effort to make her sons feel welcome. He even told them that many of Lucien's old toys were in the attic, and they should feel free to rummage around up there for anything that took their fancy. Jean wasn't so sure that was a good idea - Lucien might want those toys for his own child, Li, when he brought her home. She allowed them to take only a small train set and some sporting equipment, including a nearly new football.

Mrs. Trent might have been very old-fashioned, but she was a great help to Jean as she learned what her new position involved. When Jean asked about the locked door, Mrs. Trent explained that she was not to enter that area, which was where the late Mrs. Blake's art studio had been. The doctor had the sole key and didn't want anyone in there.

But the sunroom Jean discovered on her own. This had also been Mrs. Blake's domain, and although Mrs. Trent kept it clean and tidy, she wasn't much of a hand with plants. Jean was taken with the idea of filling it with living greenery, but she didn't feel comfortable with beginning anything without Doctor Blake's permission.

"My dear Mrs. Beazley, it would please me no end to see the place alive again," he assured her. "I used to enjoy sitting out there with a lemonade or a glass of whiskey as the sun was setting."

She smiled. "Well, then, I'll see what I can do to make that possible again," she promised.

On her last day before moving out, Mrs. Trent accompanied Jean into town to show her what shops she frequented, which shopkeepers could be trusted to provide good quality, and what kinds of food Doctor Blake enjoyed. She had already entrusted Jean with Mrs. Blake's treasured recipe book, which contained mainly French dishes that Mrs. Trent confessed she had had little success reproducing. (Jean had vowed to give them a try, especially for Lucien's homecoming, whenever that might be.)

"Doctor Blake has accounts in these shops," Mrs. Trent explained, "which is why I wanted to introduce you to the shopkeepers. This way you needn't worry about paying for any of it. They send the doctor a detailed accounting, so if you want to include any personal items, you can settle up with him then."

Jean nodded, thinking she wasn't about to charge her personal expenses to Doctor Blake's accounts. She already owed him for the money he'd advanced her in Melbourne.

They moved on to the next shop, a butcher's, but as they were about to enter, a wiry man in a police sergeant's uniform called out, "Mrs. Trent!"

She said to Jean, "That's Matthew Lawson, just home from North Africa. He was a childhood friend of young Lucien."

He approached and tipped his cap. "Ladies," he said, quickly appraising Jean.

"This is Mrs. Beazley," the older woman explained. "She'll be taking over for me as the doctor's housekeeper."

"How do you do?" he said politely. "I was just wondering if there's been further word of Lucien's condition. Chief Superintendent Ashby told me he was in the military hospital in Singapore. Nasty business, that."

"The doctor received a telegram from him," Jean responded. "Lucien said he's recovering."

"That's very good news. Please give the doctor my best." Again he tipped his cap to them, then walked away smiling.

"He seems nice," said Jean.

Mrs. Trent nodded, confiding, "Word is he'll go far with the police. Just the right temperament for the job, seeing as how he manages to put up with Doug Ashby."

They finished up at the butcher's and headed home, stopping on the way for Jean to pick up the boys who had been visiting with their cousins Danny and Amy. Jean knew that very soon she would have to start seeing to getting them into school, but for now they were still trying to adjust to freedom and Australia. She thought spending time with their cousins would help them assimilate more smoothly.

When they reached the Blake house, the doctor was waiting outside, visibly upset. "That woman has done it again," he told them. "My receptionist. Never showed up, and the first patients will be arriving any minute."

"Can I help?" Jean asked.

"Would you mind terribly? It's only a handful of patients today. All you'll need to do is answer the door and stay with them in the waiting room until I call them through. And if they need a follow-up appointment, I'll show you how to manage the scheduling book."

"That certainly sounds simple enough," said Jean. "I'll be happy to fill in, Doctor. Boys, can you please play in the back garden?"

"We can play with the football," said Christopher. "Come on, Jack."

"Mrs. Beazley, you are truly a godsend," said Doctor Blake, smiling at her and looking relieved.

Jean smiled back, thinking the same thing about him. "It seems the least I can do."

And it was surprisingly easy. She knew there must be more duties that the receptionist handled, but she couldn't quite understand why the woman seemed to find it so onerous.

The doctor was just finishing up with the final patient of the afternoon when the telephone began to rang. Jean asked with her eyes if he wanted her to answer it and he nodded.

"Doctor Blake's surgery. May I help you?"

As she heard the voice on the other end, she gasped.

* * *

Once the infection was gone, and the fever with it, Lucien's condition improved quickly. A good diet and plenty of clean water also helped. As his health improved, his impatience grew, but as yet he was still under the command of the Army. He spent much of his time on the hospital's wide veranda, writing letters to the families of men he had lost and to various officials who might help in his search. The rest of his time was devoted to reading medical journals. He needed to acquaint himself with the latest advances in medicine, and he also sought information on the long-term effects to the human body of prolonged malnutrition. He knew he and the Beazleys, as well as many others, faced physical consequences from their imprisonment, probably for the rest of their lives. He wanted to be prepared by knowing what they might expect.

Finally he was told he was well enough to be released from hospital, although he was still advised to limit his activity and get plenty of rest. A corporal was waiting for him, telling him that Colonel Galleghan wished to see him. There was a car outside to take him to the colonel's office.

"Good to see you up and about, Major Blake," said Galleghan by way of greeting. "A few formalities to go over with you. First of all, the Army is grateful for your exemplary service. You've got some medals coming your way, but I have a feeling you won't be disappointed to hear that you're being honourably discharged."

"No, sir," said Lucien, relieved that he wouldn't have to battle the military to extract himself from service.

"You can stay on until the general arrives next week for the medal ceremony or you can sign the papers now and be done with it. Your choice."

"With all due respect, sir, I'd rather do it quietly, and as soon as possible. I have urgent personal business to see to."

"Very well. Have a seat and we'll get it done."

"Thank you," said Lucien. "With your permission, sir, I'd also like to initiate proceedings to nominate one of my men for posthumous recognition. Henry Dent died trying to save a life."

Ninety minutes later, Lucien was a private citizen, walking away from the base with a sizable cheque in his pocket for the pay owed to him from the period he was imprisoned. He carried only a nearly empty rucksack with his few remaining belongings as he headed into the centre of Singapore, wondering how the city had fared.

He soon saw that many of the places he and Mei Lin had frequented were no more. The Chinese district, where Mei Lin's family had once prospered, was almost completely gone. The Japanese operation called 'Sook Ching' had aimed to eliminate Chinese influence in Singapore and throughout the Malay Peninsula, resulting in the massacre of thousands of men of Chinese descent. Now the Army was preparing to prosecute the Japanese military police, the _Kempeitai,_ as well as the informers who aided them. Lucien was grateful that Mei Lin's parents had left the country several years before, although there was no way yet to know whether the occupation in Shanghai had been any safer for them.

He turned his back on the area that held nothing for him now and started walking toward the location of the house he had bought for his family shortly after his marriage. He had no illusion that it might still be intact, but he hoped there might be something worth salvaging. Nevertheless, as he rounded the corner and it came into view, his heart still sank. It was little more than rubble, with only a portion of one of the walls still standing.

Slowly, sadly, he approached the ruins. Even the beautiful trumpet tree was destroyed, splintered and lifeless now. He couldn't help the image that sprang to mind of the tree in full bloom, covered in lovely pink flowers as Li scampered beneath it, chasing the cook's ginger tabby cat.

Lucien picked his way through the rubble, not expecting to find anything of monetary value, but hoping there might be some small fragments of his personal life, of the happiness he'd found there with his small family. Even with what he now knew of Mei Lin's infidelity, he still recalled fondly the days when he returned from the base to his wife and child, the stable family life he'd sought since he was ten years old and his world had shattered for the first time.

Tears flowed freely as he spotted the shards of a Wedgewood bowl that had been a wedding gift from Mei Lin's proud father, and then the remains of Li's cot. He used his shoe to move aside some fragments of plaster that covered the cot's beautifully decorated headboard and saw a piece of what looked like yellow fur. Bending down, holding his breath, he swept more rubble aside to reveal the small stuffed Winnie-the-Pooh that had been Li's favourite. It had been his first gift to his yet-to-be-born child. The toy was intact, and after he brushed away the dust covering it, seemed to be in remarkably good condition. If he'd been a superstitious man, he might have seen this as a hopeful sign. In any case, he stowed it in his rucksack and moved on.

He continued to sweep his shoes along the ground, moving aside the rubbish to spot anything beneath it. And then he saw exactly what he'd hoped to find - a packet of photographs. They were from a photographer's studio, taken only a month before the bombings had begun. He was amazed that they were intact, protected from the elements by oilskin in which they'd been wrapped. Not only were they treasured mementos of the happiest time in his life thus far, but more importantly they provided images of Li that would prove invaluable as he went about trying to locate her. Lucien stowed them away with rest of his belongings, not trusting himself to go through them now. The day had already been very emotional; he would look at the photographs in private at the hotel where he was planning to spend the night. It was down by the waterfront, having re-opened for business within days of the Japanese surrender. He thought it would prove convenient for him to access the pre-war maritime records first thing in the morning.

Before heading to the hotel, he decided to pay a visit to the bank, see if it was still operating and if so, whether he could expect to see any of the funds the that had been in his account. Either way, the cheque from the Army would be enough to keep him going for some time.

As he made his way back across the rubble that had once been his home, Lucien caught sight of the sun glinting off something buried, gold in colour. He bent down for a closer look and realized it was a jeweller's box with a gold-coloured clasp. He pulled the small box loose, brushed away the dirt and dust, then opened it. Inside was a gold and jade broach that he dimly remembered purchasing because it had caught his eye in a shop window. He had put it away, thinking it would make a lovely gift. He had no idea why it hadn't been found by the scavengers that had surely scoured all the ruins during the war. No matter. Into the rucksack it went.

By the time he finally reached the hotel, booked a room, and proceeded to it, he was exhausted, but satisfied with the progress he'd made. He had photographs of Li that could be used in his inquiries, and, with the bank operational, he had sufficient funds to finance his quest. He started making a mental list of all he planned to accomplish the following day, but fell asleep before he could complete it.

In the morning, he allowed himself the luxury of a leisurely breakfast before setting out again. His first stop was at the offices of the Maritime and Port Authority. A rather officious little man at the front desk merely pointed him toward the records room. Inside there was a much younger and more helpful man who found him the proper logs for the period in question and offered him the use of a table so he could sit while he reviewed the records.

It took nearly an hour of going through them line by line until he finally found what he was seeking. Lucien's heart raced as he read that the _Mareng Maru_ had been intercepted by the Imperial Japanese Navy and forced to set course for Hong Kong. There was no indication of the fate of its passengers, but his own course was now clear. Hong Kong would be his destination.

After thanking the young man for his assistance, Lucien proceeded to the shipping office and booked passage on a ship that would depart the following day.

His next stop was a tailor. Now that he was no longer in the Army he needed some proper clothes. He selected some ready-made suits and shirts, with the tailor promising the necessary alterations would be finished by the end of the day. A neighboring shop provided the other personal necessities he would require, and he arranged for it to be sent to him at the hotel.

Feeling worn out, he returned to the hotel for lunch, and although intending to take a nap, on his way through the lobby he saw a public telephone. After a quick stop at the desk to obtain the necessary coins, he placed a call to the local convent of the Sisters of Mercy. He learned from Sister Agatha there that the order also had a convent in Hong Kong. After explaining his circumstances to the sister, she told him that if he wanted to stop in later in the afternoon, she would provide him with a letter of introduction to the Mother Superior in Hong Kong.

Feeling much more hopeful, Lucien was about to return to his room when he had another thought. He lifted the telephone once again. "Overseas operator, please," he instructed. "For Australia. Ballarat, in Victoria. I'll wait."


	24. Chapter 24

_Author's Note: I apologize that this so short, but due to POV issues the telephone call required its own chapter. And international calls back then were very expensive, hence the brevity._

"Doctor Blake's surgery. May I help you?"

"Jean?" He held his breath. Could it be, or was he just longing to hear her voice?

She gasped. No one said her name quite like he did. "Lucien? My word, how are you?"

"I'm good," he assured her. "You're staying with my father?"

"I'm _working for_ your father," she corrected. "As live-in housekeeper, and apparently a part-time receptionist."

"Settling in all right?" He hoped his father was treating her well, and her boys.

"So far," said Jean. "Lucien, this call must be costing you a fortune!"

"Let me worry about that, please. Hearing your voice is the best tonic I could ask for, my dear. Worth any price."

Jean couldn't imagine not worrying about money, but this was not the time to argue about it. She had to admit that she felt much better hearing his voice as well. "Are you still in Singapore?" she asked.

"Until tomorrow," he told her. "I'm off to Hong Kong in the morning."

"You have information about your daughter?" she said, her voice full of anxious hope.

"About the ship she was on anyway," he told her. "It landed in Hong Kong. Whether Li was still on it at that point, I don't know. I'm hopeful that a contact there can give me more information."

"Oh, Lucien, I pray you find her quickly. I can't imagine how difficult this is for you, being separated from your child."

Lucien couldn't allow himself to dwell on that, it was too painful. "Speaking of children, how are Christopher and Jack faring?"

"We're taking it slow. I want them to get used to being here, back in the world first, before I try to get them into a routine."

"That sounds sensible," he told her. "And you're taking it slow with their diet as well?"

He was so sweet, Jean thought, always worrying about everyone else. "Yes, the doctor who examined us before we left Singapore warned me about limiting rich or spicy foods for a while."

"That's good. You'll want to introduce a lot of protein and calcium, um, meat and dairy, especially for the boys. And of course fruits and vegetables for vitamins, as much as they will eat. I'll discuss more of that with Dad."

"What am I thinking?" cried Jean, feeling embarrassed. "Of course you called to speak with your father, and here I am, chattering away."

"Jean, my dear." He kept his voice calm and soothing. "If I had known you were there I most certainly would have been calling to speak with you. When I'm feeling dejected or disheartened, I only have to think about you there waiting for me and instantly my day is brighter."

"I hope so," she told him. Sometimes she wondered how he could bear his burdens. It meant a great deal to her that she could help lighten them for him. "Please take care of yourself, Lucien. Come back to all of us when you can. Now, here's your father."

"Don't go too far away," he told her. "I'll want to say good-bye."

"I'll be here," she promised, smiling as she handed the receiver to Thomas.

He accepted it, then took a deep breath before speaking, which caused Jean to wonder about the cause of the differences between the two men.

"Son, are you well?" he began.

Lucien also needed a deep breath. "Yes, quite well, thank you. And you, Dad?"

"I'm perfectly fine. And so glad you mentioned Mrs. Beazley to me. She's a wonder."

He smiled at Jean, but she was busy trying to work out what Lucien might have told his father about her. Was that why the elder Doctor Blake had met them at the docks and offered them a place to stay? Was Lucien still looking out for her and the boys, despite the distance and his own very real concerns?

"Yes," Lucien told his father, "she is a wonder. So very bright and capable, much more than a housekeeper."

"I've noticed," said Thomas. "What about you, Lucien? Is there anything you need? Money?"

"No, Dad, I have enough for now at least. I'll be boarding a ship to Hong Kong in the morning, hoping I can learn more about my daughter's whereabouts." He waited for his father to castigate him for not telling him he had a granddaughter, but the old man surprised him.

"Find her, Lucien, whatever it takes," Thomas urged. "Bring her home."

"Yes, whatever it takes," Lucien confirmed, tears in his eyes. He scrubbed them away and took another deep breath to calm himself. "What about you, Dad? How are you getting on with Christopher and Jack?" He prayed they weren't being treated as he had been often treated by his father.

"They're wonderful boys. It's a pleasure to have them livening up this old house. They think very highly of you, son."

"Yes, well, I think very highly of them, too, and their mother. Which reminds me, I've been reading up in the journals about the long-term effects of malnutrition and how to counter it."

His father surprised him. "I've been doing the same, ever since I heard news of the conditions you were facing. I had hoped you would come back here to recover, but I understand you have other priorities for now. As for the Beazley family, I'm going to prescribe some vitamin supplements for all of them now that they're back on a more normal diet."

Lucien was moved. "Thank you, Dad. It means a great deal to me that you're looking out for them. I have so many plans for when Li and I return."

"Just return safely, both of you. I miss you, son. I miss you."

"We'll be there just as soon as I can manage it. Good-bye, Dad. And would you mind terribly putting Jean back on for just a moment more?"

"Of course. Godspeed, Lucien."

Jean gave Thomas a watery smile as he handed the receiver back to her. It had sounded like the two of them were mending the rift between them.

"Lucien?" she said again, still amazed that she was speaking to him.

"My darling Jean. We have so much to talk about, but it should be when we're face to face and I can look into your lovely eyes. Please don't give up on me. I'll be with you as soon as I can manage."

"I know you will," she assured him. "Find your little girl and bring her home. We'll be waiting for you, no matter how long it takes."

"Please give the boys my best wishes. I'll try to call again from Hong Kong if I can. In the meantime, just remember that a large part of my heart is with all of you there in Ballarat."

Jean wanted to return the sentiment but felt constrained by the presence of Thomas standing there beside her. "Safe travels," she said. "I'll be praying for a successful outcome."

Lucien realized her position, so he said what she could not. "Good-bye, my love."

"Good-bye." With an almost reverence, she replaced the receiver in its cradle. It seemed that even away from the camps, away from Jean herself, Lucien had not changed in his feelings for her. Perhaps there really was a future for the two of them.


	25. Chapter 25

With dismay, Lucien looked around the cabin assigned to him for the journey to Hong Kong. It didn't take him long - the cabin was tiny. He didn't know how he'd be able to even sleep there without feeling the walls closing in on him. Trying to do anything more was unthinkable. He would have to spend as little time there as possible, and when he was there, concentrate on the reason for his trip. Surely he could bear this and much more for Li's sake.

He didn't even bother to unpack, just gathered up some medical journals and fled up to the deck. He found a deck chair and settled in for the day.

His strength was returning gradually, and between journals he would exercise on the deck. He took little notice of the young women who watched, and had even less interest in encouraging them. To his mind he was already committed, and none of them could hold a candle to Jean anyway.

He also spent time pacing as he tried to plan his next move if the sisters at the convent in Hong Kong could provide no useful information. He supposed he could go to the Maritime Offices there, see if they had anything further on the ship and its passengers. Surely the Japanese authorities had kept records of the port's activities. It was just a question of whether they had been destroyed in the wake of the Empire's defeat.

He had been given the name of a "fixer" in Hong Kong, a Mister Kim, who supposedly could locate anyone or _anything_ in the sprawling colonial city, but Lucien vowed to only contact him as a last resort. He wasn't sure about the man's capabilities or his ethics.

Nights on the ship were his biggest challenge. After the first two nights of suffering and nightmares, he took the pillow and blanket up on deck and, huddled behind a lifeboat for protection from the brisk wind, he found a measure of peace, if little actual sleep.

The food was passable, if a little too dependent on rice and fish for his liking, after years of subsisting almost solely on those items. He felt like he would kill for a lamb chop and some roasted potatoes, but settled for large quantities of vegetables and any version of meat they happened to serve.

Whatever the inconveniences (and after what he'd been through they were hardly more than that) he kept his focus on his goal. If he could find Li and return with her to Ballarat, none of this was of any consequence.

At night, staring up at the stars, he would picture the moment: Li in his arms as Christopher and Jack danced around them and Jean stood on the porch watching with that brilliant smile of hers. Despite his best efforts not to be too optimistic and risk a crushing disappointment, variations of that image persisted each night until finally the ship approached the harbour in Hong Kong

* * *

Jean felt buoyant for days after the telephone call from Lucien. She still prayed nightly for his safety and his success, but somehow she was more convinced than ever that her dreams might just come true this time. Her dreams had been tempered considerably since the days when she saw herself traveling the world. Now all she wanted was to spend her days looking after Lucien, watching their children grow up healthy and happy, and then grow old with the man she loved. It didn't seem too much to ask, since it happened to other people all the time. Why not Jean Randall Beazley, soon to be Blake she hoped.

In the meantime she focused on what was in front of her. She began to ask questions about the local schools, trying to find one that might understand the horrors her boys had been through and be willing to adjust accordingly. She cooked and cared for the house, and took on an increasingly larger role in helping Doctor Blake in his practice. Since no suitable candidate had been presented for the receptionist position, she told him she was willing to take it on a permanent basis, at least until Lucien and Li arrived. Then they might have to rethink the arrangement. Thomas was delighted by the suggestion, insisting that her paycheck be increased substantially to reflect the added duties.

The additional income meant that for once Jean had the luxury of not weighing every single penny before spending it. Her lifetime of frugality continued, but now she had choices never available to her before.

She thought about music lessons for Christopher but decided to wait until the boys were enrolled in school. The school itself might provide some kind of training, and if not, she thought Lucien would be able to help her find someone suitable. At least he might know the right questions to ask.

Christopher had lost none of his fascination with the piano. He still played around with it for hours on end. From time to time Thomas would show him something, like what the pedals could do or how to use a metronome to keep time. But for the most part, Christopher figured things out on his own.

Jack, on the other hand, was demanding more attention. Jean recognized that a part of it was because Christopher was spending less time with him. She offered to let him help when she baked biscuits, and she encouraged Danny Parks to come over as often as he could, but she knew having the structure of regular school days was the best solution to settling Jack down. He seemed to be suffering from an overdose of freedom, if that made any sense.

The day she found him tearing pages from the magazines in the surgery waiting room, she knew it was time he learned that freedom had limits. She sent him to his bedroom and advised him his football was confiscated for two days. He looked up at her, shocked, so she sat down beside him and tried to explain, but he would have none of it. He turned his back on her, so she left him alone to think things over. And redoubled her efforts to find the right school for him before he got into serious trouble.

When Christopher heard what his brother had done, he marched straight to Jack's room. Jean followed but stayed out of sight, planning to intervene only if necessary.

"What are you doing?" Christopher asked.

"Nothing," Jack muttered, a trace of defiance in his tone.

"Don't you like living here?"

Jean heard no response.

"Mum's working hard so we have a nice place like this to live," Christopher continued. "If you make Doctor Blake angry he could make us leave."

"He's not _our_ Doctor Blake," Jack retorted.

"But this is our Doctor Blake's house, too," said Christopher. "If we have to leave here how will he find us when he comes?"

In a tiny voice Jack said, "Do you really think he's coming back to us, Chris?"

"He said he would," said Christopher. "I don't think he would lie to us and to Mum. But we have to be here. That means not making the other Doctor Blake mad, understood?"

"Yes, understood," said Jack. There was a moment of silence before Jack asked, "Do you think our Doctor Blake can play football with me when he comes back?"

"Sure. He can do a lot of things with us, you'll see."

Jean crept downstairs, tears in her eyes. It probably wasn't fair to expect so much of Lucien, but she couldn't think of a better hero for her sons to have.

* * *

As Lucien walked off the ship he was prioritizing the tasks he had set for himself. First he should probably find a hotel as a base of operations. Then he would set out to find the convent.

But it seemed the nuns had other ideas. Standing directly in front of him was a boy of about ten years holding a sign that said "BLAKE".

"I'm Blake," he told the boy. "What can I do for you?"

The boy gave him a toothy grin. "Mother Superior said you should come with me," he advised.

Lucien smiled back. "And I suppose it's never a good idea to disobey Mother Superior."

"No," said the boy, shaking his head firmly. "Not good at all."

"Well, then, shall we?" said Lucien, letting the boy lead the way. "Is it very far?"

"Not far," said the boy, whom Lucien learned was named Gabriel, "like the angel", as he told Lucien.

Lucien hefted his bag and followed the boy. Gabriel looked at the case. "We could take a taxi," he said, his eyes hopeful.

Lucien smiled down at him. "Why not, eh?" He flagged down a cab, and held the door open for the boy who was clearly excited to ride in the vehicle, a rare treat.

Gabriel was able to tell the driver the address of the convent, then he turned to Lucien. "Is it true you're from Australia?"

"I haven't been there for a while, but, yes, that's where I grew up," he confirmed.

"Did you have a pet kangaroo?"

Lucien suppressed a smile. "I'm afraid not."

"A koala?"

"No, not a koala either. Not even a quokka or a wallaby. Just a dog for a while."

"Oh", said Gabriel, clearly disappointed.

"Do you have a pet?" Lucien asked him.

Gabriel shook his head. "No, it isn't allowed... but when I grow up I will. Do you think I could get a kangaroo or a koala?"

"They both need quite a bit of room, so if you plan to live here in Hong Kong it probably isn't a very good idea."

"Oh. Maybe I could move to Australia then," said Gabriel.

"Maybe," Lucien agreed. He found the young man delightful, making him miss the company of Christopher and Jack.

The taxicab deposited them in front of an imposing, grey stone building, its gothic style distinctly at odds with the majority of the architecture in Hong Kong. Lucien had visited the colony for a few days long before the war began, on holiday with Mei Lin. As he recalled, she spent much of the time complaining about one thing or another. Knowing what he knew now, Lucien couldn't help but wonder if her unhappiness was due to missing Derek. His marriage may have been a sham in its latter stages, he thought, but Li made it all worthwhile.

He followed Gabriel inside and found himself in the office of the Mother Superior. She was a slender woman with a fine-featured, aristocratic face, European, and a gentle air of authority about her.

"How do you do, Doctor Blake," she said, standing to greet him. "I am Mother Julienne." She indicated the chair across from her desk, and Lucien sat down.

"A pleasure to meet you," said Lucien. "You knew I was coming."

"Yes, Sister Agatha has been in touch. She told us of your situation. I'll help in any way I can," she assured him.

"Thank you, that's very kind," said Lucien. "I'm not certain how much Sister Agatha told you. In 1942, just before Singapore fell, my three-year-old daughter Li was put on the _Mareng Maru."_

The Mother Superior nodded. "Yes, with some of our sisters."

"The ship was intercepted by the Japanese and ended up here in Hong Kong. I don't know if..." He choked up before he could finish.

The nun rested her hand atop his where it lay on the desk between them. "Yes, Doctor, your daughter was still aboard."

He stared at her. "You're sure?"

"Yes. It seems some of the crew were killed by the Japanese but all the passengers arrived here safely, from what I'm told. I wasn't here then. I was sent here to take over after the Japanese were expelled. My predecessor died during the war."

"My deepest sympathies to you and the order," Lucien told her with sincerity. He took a breath. "I wonder if you know of anyone who might have been here at the time the _Mareng Maru_ docked."

The Mother Superior smiled at him. "Better than that, Doctor. One of the sisters who was on the ship is still here."

"Really?" This news was better than Lucien could have hoped. "May I? That is to say, would it be all right if I spoke with her?"

"Sister Mary Chang's English is very limited, I'm afraid," said the Mother Superior.

"I see. Cantonese? Mandarin?" Lucien inquired.

"Mainly Cantonese, but she understands Mandarin."

"Then there shouldn't be a problem," said Lucien.

"Excellent. I'll have her sent for."

The Chinese nun was elderly and so tiny it looked as though a stiff breeze would send her flying. She bowed politely to Lucien then seemed startled when he addressed her in her own language.

"Sister, I am honoured that you would speak with me. May we sit?"

In English, Mother Julienne said, "I'll leave you to it, Doctor. If you need anything further, Gabriel will be waiting just outside."

"Thank you, Mother Superior. I'm most grateful."

"You're very welcome, Doctor. I will say a prayer that you are reunited with your daughter." She closed the door behind herSelf.

When they were seated, the diminutive nun addressed him, again in Cantonese. "You are Li's father?"

"Yes," said Lucien. "You remember Li."

"She was a lovely child, very smart. We spoiled her before the Japanese arrived."

"And after the Japanese arrived? After you arrived here in Hong Kong? Do you know what happened to her?" Lucien held his breath. This was the closest he had been to locating his daughter, to knowing her fate.

The nun nodded, and Lucien might have kissed her if it weren't for her wimple. "Li was sent to Shanghai."

"Shanghai?" His excitement deflated. How would he ever find her? One small child in a city of that size. "Do you know where in Shanghai, Sister?"

"No, I'm sorry. But Sister Elizabeth might know."

"I see. And would it be possible for me to speak with Sister Elizabeth?"

"Mother Superior May be able to arrange it. Sister Elizabeth is in Shanghai. She traveled there with little Li."

Again his hopes skyrocketed. "Sister Elizabeth was sent to Shanghai at the same time Li was, and you think she's still there?" Lucien clarified.

"I know she is," said Sister Mary Chang. "I received a letter from her last week."

* * *

Jean finished the last of the washing up from dinner, dried her hands, and placed the towel neatly back on its rack. Doctor Blake had retired to his bedroom early, saying he was feeling a little under the weather. "Just a cold," he had assured Jean, although she suspected he had caught a touch of influenza from his recent house call out to the Turner farm.

She thought she might check on him, see if he would like a cuppa, but when she went to knock on his door she could hear the faint sound of snoring. She decided she would let him sleep. Instead, she turned the wireless on softly and took up her darning. Jack had seemed to put a hole in every sock that he owned.

She had just gotten settled when the telephone rang. She rushed to answer it before the noise woke the doctor. She hoped it wasn't a patient requesting a house call.

"Blake residence," she announced into the receiver.

"Jean."

She recognized his voice instantly, of course, but was that a sob she heard in it? _Please, God, no. Not bad news. Doesn't he deserve better?"_

"Lucien, where are you?" she asked gently.

"Hong Kong. Jean, you won't believe the day I've had!"

"Tell me," she prompted.

"Jean, Li made it to Hong Kong! I've spoken with one of the nuns that accompanied her."

"That's wonderful! Oh, Lucien, I'm so happy for you."

"Thank you, Jean." She could hear him beaming. "Tomorrow I'm off to Shanghai - that's where she was sent. I'm to meet with someone who went there with her. Jean, I'm going to find her in Shanghai, I know it!"

She knew he was crying, and tears streamed down her own cheeks. "I can't even imagine what you must be feeling," she told him.

"All I need is to find her. I wasn't sure it would ever happen. I hoped, but I thought..."

"I know, love. I know."

"And then we'll come home to you and the boys. Home, Jean. I can hardly believe it."

A small part of her wanted to caution him that it might not be that easy, that he should prepare himself, just in case, but she couldn't bring herself to dampen his joy. He had earned the right to it, no matter what came next.

"That sounds perfect," she told him instead. "The boys ask about you all the time. They want to know when you'll be here."

"Please, tell them I'll be there just as soon as I can, will you?"

"I will," she promised. "Please, Lucien, take care of yourself." She knew his tendency to rush into things without thinking through the consequences.

"Jean, I will, I promise. I owe it to Li, and to you and the boys."

"Do you want to talk to your father? I think he's asleep but I can wake him."

"No, no, that's not necessary. Just pass along the news to him, if you will."

"Certainly."

"Good, thank you, my darling. I love you, Jean, and I have big plans for when we get there," he told her, his voice soft and husky.

She shivered deliciously. "I love you, too, and I have a few plans of my own," she promised.

"Until then, love."

"Good-bye," she whispered. And when the connection had ended, she added, "Please, let him find her. Please."


	26. Chapter 26

Jean was up early, humming happily to herself as she prepared breakfast. She couldn't wait to share the news from Lucien's call with Thomas and the boys.

Christopher was first into the kitchen, as usual. Without being told, he began to set the table.

"Good morning, sweetheart. Thank you," she told him, smiling.

"G'morning, Mum," he replied, pausing a moment to study her.

"I have some good news, but it will have to wait until your brother and the doctor join us," she told him.

"I think I'll go roust Jack then or we'll never find out," he said with just a hint of a smile.

Her heart soared. Even a tiny smile from Christopher was a major triumph. And Jack had seemed to settle down somewhat after Christopher's heart-to-heart with him. They were all healing, slowly perhaps, but it was happening.

A few moments later Doctor Blake shuffled in, still looking a bit rough. "Good morning, Mrs. Beazley," he said, a bit of a croak to his voice. "I think you'd better cancel any appointments for the day, if you would, please. I don't want to be passing any germs along to my patients."

"A very wise decision," Jean told him. "Ready for a cuppa? Perhaps with a little honey and lemon for your throat?"

"Just what the doctor ordered," said Thomas.

The boys entered behind him, Jack still in his pyjamas and looking only half-awake. Seeing the disapproving look from their mother, Christopher said, "If we had to wait until he got dressed properly, we'd never get to hear your good news."

"Just this once," said Jean, kissing the top of Jack's head.

"Good news?" queried Thomas.

"Very good," Jean confirmed. "Lucien called late last night."

"Our Doctor Blake?" asked Jack, suddenly much more alert.

"That's right. And he asked after all of you, of course. He can't wait to see everyone."

"When is he coming?" Jack wanted to know.

"That's the best news," she said, looking at Thomas. "He spoke with someone, a nun, who was on the ship with little Li. They made it safely to Hong Kong, and from there she was sent to Shanghai with another nun. Lucien is heading there today to speak with the nun. He's very confident that he's close to finding Li. Isn't that wonderful? He's going to find his little girl and bring her home to us soon."

"Tomorrow?" asked Jack. "Will they come home tomorrow?"

"No, not tomorrow, sweetheart. Do you remember how long it took us on the ship from Singapore? Shanghai is even further away."

"Oh," said Jack, obviously not pleased.

"But he will be coming," said Jean. "He wanted me to tell you that."

"He'll come as soon as he can," said Christopher. "He's thinking about us, Jack. He hasn't forgotten us."

"Of course he hasn't," said Jean. "Now, everyone, sit down and have your breakfast."

She noticed that Thomas had been very quiet after the initial news that Li had reached Hong Kong safely. She prayed he wasn't feeling apprehensive at the thought of his son coming home. She had no idea what had caused the rift between them, but hoped it could be mended when Lucien arrived.

The boys chattered all through the meal about what they had planned for the big day when he arrived. Jean suspected Lucien, and Li particularly, would want a quiet homecoming, but Jean could address that with her boys when the day was imminent. For now, she would let them enjoy their dreams of football and fishing and visits to the ice cream parlour with Lucien.

They finished their meal, put their plates in the sink, and disappeared out the door to the back garden.

When she was alone with Thomas, she said, "Are you feeling all right, Doctor? You didn't seem very excited about Lucien's news."

"The news about Li, is wonderful, isn't it?" said the doctor.

"But?"

"But, well, the idea of Lucien going into China proper has me worried," he sighed. "He's just finally free from the last war and now he's heading into another one, isn't he? The communists and the KMT."

"I thought that was in Manchuria. Shanghai isn't in Manchuria, is it?" Jean was shocked. Did she need to worry about Lucien's safety yet again?

"No, Shanghai is not in Manchuria, but according to the Melbourne newspapers there are lesser skirmishes and work stoppages across China. If Lucien doesn't know the country very well, he could easily get embroiled in it."

Jean moved over to sit in the chair beside him. "Doctor Blake, the last thing in the world your son wants right now is to get embroiled in a war. He intends to find Li as quickly as he can and come right home."

"It's just, well, I never expected him to join the Army, but he did, and now..."

"And now he's gotten himself out of the Army as soon as he could," Jean reminded the doctor. "He wants nothing more to do with war, believe me."

Thomas rested a hand on top of hers where they were clasped on the tabletop. "Mrs. Beazley, it seems you know my son much better than I do. I suppose I'll have to defer to your judgment in the matter."

"Doctor, you can remedy that when he gets here," she told him kindly. "And in the meantime, I don't think a few prayers for his safety would go amiss. His safety and Li's, too."

"No, I don't suppose they would," Thomas agreed.

* * *

Lucien heaved a sigh as he looked at the cabin he would occupy for the next two days. It was hardly bigger than the one on the last ship, and as he contemplated spending much time in this small space, he made the decision that if he found Li, _when_ he found Li, he would look into the possibility of flying back to Australia instead of going by ship.

As on the prior voyage he spent the day on deck, reading journals and exercising. He had to admit that the combination of sea air and calisthenics had helped make him feel stronger, even if the lacklustre food meant he was regaining little weight. And the time spent reviewing medical advances made him confident he could obtain certification to practice medicine again in Australia. He would need to earn a living for himself and Li when they reached home. Possibly for Jean and her boys as well in the not-too-distant future, if he had his way.

All things considered, he was feeling more optimistic than he had in a long time, maybe ever.

As the rest of the passengers and crew settled down for the night, he returned to his tiny cabin, and as he had before, he retrieved his pillow and blanket then made his way back on deck. He was just getting comfortable when one of the crew came rushing over, whispering fiercely in Mandarin. "No, no, you can't sleep here. It's forbidden! You must sleep in your cabin. Quickly before the officers see you."

For just a moment he considered telling the man why he couldn't bear to sleep in his cabin. The Chinese despised the Japanese and had suffered greatly at their hands. Surely he would understand. But Lucien decided he couldn't start using his experiences in the war as a crutch or a weapon. It would be too easy to let that define him. He needed to learn to cope with the consequences rather than expecting the world to make accommodations.

"I'm going, I'm going," he told the man.

He was followed to his cabin, with the door closed firmly in his wake. Inside he stood for a moment, trying to decide what to do. Sleep wasn't all that important to him, but he still had to get through the night somehow, apparently without leaving his cabin.

Finally, he had an idea. He pulled the mattress from the bed and dragged it over to the doorway. After propping the door open, he turned on all the lights in the cabin, then arranged himself on the mattress in such a way that he was facing out into the passageway. Technically, he was still in his cabin as required. He picked up a journal and began to read.

Sometime during the night he must have fallen asleep. He woke up somewhat stiff but aside from that none the worse and ready to meet the day. The day when he might finally be reunited with his darling Li.

He dressed carefully, wanting to make the best possible impression on the sisters who held the key to finding his daughter. He packed up his belongings and went on deck to wait for the ship to dock.

The gangplank was barely in place when he walked down it, and quickly discovered a problem when he tried to ask directions to the convent: many of the people of Shanghai spoke neither Cantonese nor Mandarin. They had their own distinct dialect, one that he didn't understand.

He decided to walk into the city proper, thinking he could find someone in a bank or hotel that he could communicate with. With that in mind, he set off. He hadn't gone far when he saw a mob of people milling about outside what appeared to be a factory of some sort. He approached slowly, not knowing what was going on. He was startled, though, when a man walked past him, muttering in Cantonese, "Damned communists."

Lucien stopped him and greeted him politely.

The man was wary. "Yes?"

"I'm looking for the convent of the Immaculate Conception," Lucien told him, naming the street it was on.

The man waved a hand off to his left. "It's just over there, across from the church. You can see the spire."

Lucien could see a gold cross up above the other buildings. He thanked the man and headed toward the church. As the man had said the convent was directly opposite it. A simple, nearly austere building it looked more like a police station or bureaucratic office than a home for women.

He knocked on the door, holding the introductory letter from Sister Julienne in his hand. Minutes later he was inside and facing Sister Elizabeth, a tall, red-faced, imposing woman but with a gentle smile. Unfortunately for Lucien, she spoke primarily Shanghai, with just a bit of English. No Cantonese or Mandarin or any other language that Lucien knew.

"Sister, I am looking for the child, Li. The little girl who came here with you. Do you remember Li?" he asked in English.

"Yes, little Li." She nodded.

Lucien's heart raced. This was the moment he'd been waiting for ever since the _Mareng Maru_ had sailed out of sight. "Do you know where she is? I'm her father."

The nun looked confused. "You are father?"

"Yes, I am her father. Look." He pulled out one of the photographs he'd found in the remains of the house in Singapore, one showing himself, Mei Lin and Li. "You see? I am Li's father."

"Oh!" The woman was clearly distraught. "A man. He say he is father. Her big father. Take her."

"I don't understand," said Lucien, not really wanting to. He felt as though he might be sick.

"Li go with man, her father, he say. Big father."

"Where did they go?" Lucien asked frantically. "Where can I find them? Where is my daughter?"

Sister Elizabeth had tears in her eyes, matching those in Lucien's own. "I don't know where they go. So sorry. He say he is her father. I am happy she have family."

"Where? There must be something you can tell me about him. Anything," he begged in anguish. He could feel his heart breaking.

The nun shook her head sadly. "Too many children. All orphans. We try to help them."

"Yes, I know you do," Lucien managed. He realized they had thought they were helping Li. He could hardly blame them for that. But now he was completely lost. Where could he go from here?

 _Author's Note: Sorry_


	27. Chapter 27

Jean spent the day with happy thoughts of Lucien. This could be the beginning of the rest of her life. The beginning of their lives together. It was the day Lucien would find his daughter and begin the journey home.

She wondered if he would send a telegram, or perhaps even call, to let them know when he was on his way with Li. What would his little girl think of the boys? Of Jean herself?

By mid-afternoon she'd been smiling so much her cheeks hurt. It was just as well that that the doctor had cancelled all appointments for the day - his patients would have been suspicious of her joyful mood, especially those who already questioned the propriety of her living in the house of a widower (even if he was older than her father would have been).

She had been trying to imagine what Lucien had been doing each hour of the day. Surely he had gone to find the convent straight away upon reaching Shanghai. The nearest she could figure, eastern China's time zone was two hours behind Ballarat, so by mid-afternoon she thought he must have learned Li's whereabouts. By dinner time she was certain he must have been reunited with her - nothing would keep him away as soon as he knew where she was. She wished she could see his joy at that moment.

When the telephone rang as she was preparing dinner, she turned off the stove and rushed to answer it, hoping.

She almost didn't recognize his voice.

"Jean...". The agony in it made her want to cry.

"Tell me, Lucien," she said softly.

"Jean, she's gone."

Jean gasped. Li was dead?

"Someone took her. The nuns let someone take her away," he said, a sob in his voice.

At least she wasn't dead then. "Who took her? Where?" Jean asked him.

"I don't know. I don't know where to start looking."

There were tears streaming down her face as she listened to his despair. But she knew tears wouldn't help him. They had to think about this logically. She tried to keep her voice calm as she spoke to him. "Lucien, please, love, tell me what happened."

She could hear him take a deep, shuddering breath. "I went to the convent directly from the ship," he began. "I met with Sister Elizabeth, the one who brought Li to Shanghai. She didn't speak much English, and I don't know the dialect she speaks."

"Could there be some kind of misunderstanding then?" Jean asked.

"No, she was very clear about it," Lucien insisted. "She said a man came and took Li away."

"What man? Why would they let someone just come and take her away?"

"He said... The man told them he was Li's father. Her father," Lucien groaned.

"Lucien," she said, trying to bring him back from the dark place he was heading towards. "Love, tell me exactly what Sister Elizabeth said."

"She said... She said a man came and said he was her father. No, wait a moment. She said he was her big father."

"Her big father? What does that mean?" Jean asked.

"I don't know," he said dismissively. "A problem with the language?"

"Yes, probably," Jean agreed, "but maybe there's more to it. You're sure she said it like that, 'her big father'?"

"Yes, she said it twice," said Lucien, sounding somewhat calmer. "What are you thinking, Jean?"

"I wonder... It might be a translation issue, as you said. But could it have meant something else?"

"Such as?"

Jean thought for a moment. "Big father... Grandfather?"

There was a long silence. She could practically hear him thinking.

"Jean, you're bloody brilliant! I'm sorry for the vulgarity but it's true!"

She laughed for a moment, then sobered. "Her grandfather? Is that possible?"

"Mei Lin's parents left Singapore when the bombings began," he told her. "They came here, to Shanghai."

"Oh, Lucien, can you find them?"

"Jean, love, I sent a trunk to my father just before the war. Do you know if he received it?"

"It's in the spare bedroom your father thought might be yours when you come home. What do you need from it?"

"My agenda. A small book covered in black leather. It should be near the top. I distinctly remember it was one of the last items I packed. I sent the key for the trunk in a separate envelope."

"Yes, it's in the bedroom as well. I'll be right back." She hurried to do as he asked, opening the envelope to retrieve the key and fitting it into the lock on the large trunk. For a moment it stuck, refusing to turn, but she would not be defeated. She used all her strength and finally got it to yield. She lifted the lid carefully, wondering about the bits of Lucien's old life that the trunk contained. On the very top was a tray of personal items, a very old pocket watch and other pieces of jewellery, framed photographs and the like. She removed the tray, and directly beneath it was the black, leather bound notebook he had described. She took just a moment longer to return the tray and lock up the trunk before hurrying back to the telephone.

"I have it," she told Lucien.

"Right, thank you. Now, near the front, the second page if I recall correctly, you should find an entry for the Zhang family." He spelled it for her.

She opened the book and was startled to see that many of the entries were written with foreign characters, presumably Chinese. On the second page, though, as he had thought, she found an address entry for Zhang, which was written in English, thankfully.

"Are you ready for it?" she asked him.

"Yes, go ahead, please."

She read the address, then something puzzled her. "Lucien, how would Mr. Zhang have known about Li?" she asked.

"I wrote to them to tell them about Mei Lin," he told her. "I had already put Li on the ship at that time, and I told them the name of it. News of its arrival must have reached them." She heard him laugh. "Jean, it seems Li hasn't been alone all this time. She's been with her grandparents!"

She could hear the jubilation in his voice, even more than the previous night which had led to such crushing disappointment. If this lead didn't pan out, she couldn't imagine the depth of his despair. "Lucien," she said softly, "remember, we're guessing that it was Mr. Zhang that took Li away with him. We could be wrong."

She could hear him breathe in deeply. "Yes, of course. You're right, Jean. It's just, well..."

"I know. We'll just pray we're right. Go, Lucien. Find your little girl."

"Thank you, Jean. Without your help... Thank you."

She replaced the receiver in its cradle. She was worried about him. At least if Li wasn't with the Zhangs he wouldn't be entirely alone. He would have his in-laws to share his grief.

* * *

Lucien had called Jean from the lobby of the hotel where he'd taken a room for the night while considered his options. He glanced up at the clock. It was just past 3 P.M. Still early enough to see the Zhangs today.

Remembering his very proper "British" father-in-law, Lucien returned to his room for a quick freshen up, then checked with the _concierge_ to get directions. It was close enough to require only a short taxi ride.

During the brief journey he couldn't remember ever being so anxious, despite everything he'd been through in the war. The taxi deposited him in front of a small, modest house, a far cry from the Zhang estate in Singapore. Lucien supposed that with the coming revolution that seemed inevitable now, a less ostentatious home was wise.

He walked up to the door but before he could knock or locate a bell to ring, the door opened, and a man he knew well stood there to greet him. "Lucien, we've been hoping to see you. Please come inside quickly. You should not be seen here."

The demonstrations at the docks had shown Lucien that the political unrest was spreading, no longer confined to Manchuria. He did as he was bade, stepping inside and closing the door behind himself.

When he turned back to greet his father-in-law properly, he spotted someone just behind the man: a beautiful little girl. _**His**_ beautiful little girl. Tears streamed down his face as he went down to one knee and whispered, "Li. My little princess."

She stared at him for just a moment, her brow wrinkled in thought as she tried to remember, and then she did. "Daddy?" she whispered back, and when he nodded and held out his arms, she threw herself into them, hugging him as fiercely as her seven-year-old arms would allow.

"You see, little one," said her grandfather. "I told you Daddy would come for you."

"I came just as soon as I could, darling girl," Lucien assured her. "I have missed you more than you will ever know."

 _Author's Note: Kudos to the guest reviewer who followed the breadcrumbs correctly and figured it out before Jean did._


	28. Chapter 28

Li sat on Lucien's lap, neither of them wanting to be apart a moment longer, but eventually she drifted off to sleep. He lay her on the couch beside him where he could still run his hand over her hair to remind himself she was really there.

Once she was sleeping soundly, he could talk more openly with her protector. "Father Zhang, I am forever in your debt for taking her into your care."

"She is my grandchild, Lucien. As soon as I heard that her ship had reached Hong Kong I began to make inquiries to find her. I regret that I had no means to contact you and let you know of her whereabouts."

"I was a prisoner of the Japanese," Lucien explained. "As soon as I was liberated from the camp and from the Army, I began looking for Li."

"I knew that you would. I kept telling her you would come for her so that she would not forget you."

"You've done a wonderful job, in what must have been very difficult circumstances. She seems healthy and happy, thanks to you."

"She has been a delight. Of course I worried for her during the occupation. As you say, difficult circumstances, but we made it through."

"And Mother Zhang?" Lucien asked. He had seen no signs of her, a woman who looked almost exactly like her daughter Mei Lin.

"My wife...". He paused, showing as much emotion as Lucien had ever seen from the stoic gentleman. "The Japanese..."

Lucien reached over to squeeze the man's shoulder. "I'm so very sorry."

He nodded sadly. "My wife and my daughter, both taken by them. I am so thankful they did not harm my granddaughter as well."

The older man would be alone now, Lucien realized. "Why don't you come with us?" he suggested. "Back to Australia. From there you can go anywhere else, if you'd like, even England. I know how you've always wanted to visit London. And with the next war coming to China very soon, it would be much safer somewhere else. If you wanted to stay in Ballarat with Li and me, you'd be very welcome."

Father Zhang smiled sadly and shook his head. "I will be sorry not to watch Li grow up, but this is my home now. You're a good man, Lucien, and I thank you for the offer, but the past few years have reminded me that I am Chinese, not British as I tried to become. I will face the future here, in the land of my ancestors. Where my wife's body rests. You take Li to Australia and give her a wonderful life, as I'm sure you will. And don't forget to give yourself one as well, my boy. You deserve it."

It was very late by the time he finally returned to his hotel that night. Li woke only briefly as he removed her shoes and her dress before sliding her under the covers. He smiled at her, still hardly believing she was really there. "I have something for you," he said softly when he saw her watching him. "I wonder if you remember it."

He reached into his rucksack and pulled out the stuffed bear he had recovered from the ruins of their home in Singapore.

Her eyes lit up. "Pooh! Daddy, you found him!" She snuggled the toy beneath her chin, just as she had so many years before.

"Yes, my darling girl. You sleep now, and tomorrow we head for our new home."

He made two telephone calls before going to bed himself, one to the telegraph company and one to arrange their passage home. Then he went to bed, welcoming sleep for the first time in years.

* * *

Jean did not sleep quite so well. She worried. She knew that with the time difference between Ballarat and Shanghai it was most likely that when he could reach a telephone it might have been too late for Lucien to call and tell her what had happened. Still, if it had gone badly, what might he have done?

She said prayers for him and for Li, for both of them to reunite and make it safely to Ballarat. Then she rolled onto her side, hoping to get a few hours sleep at least. Her eyes sought out the picture on her bedside table - the drawing Lucien had made for her of Christopher and Jack. Weeks before, as she had been watching the boys rummage through the trunks in the attic, she'd spotted an empty silver frame, almost exactly the right size for the small postcard. At Doctor Blake's urging, she'd cleaned it up and now it held the treasured picture to remind her each day that her boys, all three of them, had survived. Maybe when Lucien finally arrived home, she could ask him to draw another of the three children, little Li and her big brothers.

Sometime later she fell asleep, but found no peace in it. In her dreams she saw Lucien being dragged away by what must have been a Chinese mob. A little girl whose face she couldn't see but still knew to be Li screamed in terror. Lucien was forced to kneel on the ground as another man swaggered towards him. A man carrying a huge carved sword. When he turned, she recognized him: Harold Morris. She knew at once what he intended to do to Lucien, and her own screams joined Li's.

A pounding on her bedroom door awoke her before she had to see the rest. She must have actually screamed and roused the whole household. Embarrassed and still trying to banish the horrific images from her dream, she threw on her dressing gown and opened the door to see Thomas, Christopher and Jack all looking concerned.

"I'm sorry, bad dream. It's fine now. You should all go back to bed," she told them, with a shooing motion.

"Are you sure?" asked the doctor.

"We can stay with you for a bit," Christopher offered.

"I could sleep in your bed to keep you company," Jack said.

"It's very kind, but I'll be fine. Go back to your own beds, please."

She watched them go, with just a backward look from Christopher to be sure she really was fine. When she was certain they were all safely back in their beds, she slipped downstairs, hoping a warm drink might banish the lingering shadows of her horrifying dream. Out of habit, she whispered another prayer for Lucien as she waited for her tea to cool enough to drink.

A glance at the clock showed it was nearly six A.M., too late to go back to sleep now. When she finished her tea she would go upstairs to wash and dress for the day ahead. Doctor Blake would resume seeing patients that day so it was bound to be busy. Just as well, she thought. It would take her mind off Lucien for a while at least.

She took her time over her tea, savoring the peace and quiet of the early morning. She reflected that with the boys due to finally begin school in a few days, she would need to purchase their uniforms. The thought of Jack dressed in a blazer and tie made her smile.

She finished the last of her tea, then stood up to wash her cup and saucer before heading for the stairs. She had just finished drying her hands and was replacing the towel when there was a sharp rap on the front door. She hurried to open it before the noise woke the doctor.

With a feeling of _déja vu_ she saw a young man standing there and holding out the yellow envelope that indicated a telegram. She took it from him, handed him a tip, and then closed the door before looking at the envelope. It was addressed to both Doctor Thomas Blake and Mrs. Jean Beazley. It had to be news of Lucien.

She tore open the envelope and unfolded the flimsy paper inside.

"Have found Li Stop On way home Stop Sorry too late to call Stop See you soonest Stop Lucien Full Stop"

Her heart sang with joy. Without thinking about the time of day, she called out, "Doctor, boys, come quickly! We have very good news!"

Thomas was tying the belt to his dressing gown as he emerged, while Christopher looked worried and Jack was barely awake.

"What is it, Mrs. Beazley?" asked the doctor, frowning at the early hour.

She waved the telegram in her excitement. "It's from Lucien! He's found Li, and they're coming home!"

Jack's eyes widened. "Our Doctor Blake?"

"Yes, sweetheart. Our Doctor Blake and his little girl are on their way back to us. Isn't that wonderful?"

"Oh, thank the Lord," Thomas murmured, tears in his eyes. "Thank the Lord."

"Yes," Jean concurred. She would say an extra prayer of thanks when she went to bed that night.

* * *

Lucien awoke to a chorus of shouting and stomping from below his window. Puzzled, he arose and pushed the drapes aside to see what was happening. A crowd, or more accurately, a mob of men swarmed about the entrance to the hotel. The revolution had arrived.

He went back to the bed and awoke Li as gently as he could manage. "Quickly, my darling," he told her. "We're going to get dressed and get our things together."

He helped her into her dress, and while she pulled her shoes on, he finished dressing himself. Thankfully he had not really unpacked his own belongings, and Li's were still in the satchel from the Zhangs. There were just a handful of personal items and Li's stuffed bear to pack.

Ten minutes after he had seen the mob, Lucien and Li we're heading downstairs. An elderly bellman intercepted them. "Come, this way," he told them.

Trusting his instincts, Lucien took Li's hand and followed him. The bellman led them away from the front entrance, through the hotel kitchen, toward the loading dock where the food was received. The man pointed off to the left. "You can find taxis down there," he said. "Go now."

Lucien thanked him and led Li in the direction he'd indicated. As soon as they exited the alley, he spotted a cab, and they climbed into it.

The driver took one look at them and said, "Where to, Mack?"

Lucien gave him their destination, then looked down at Li. "It's fine, little princess. We'll be on our way to Australia very soon."

"Aussies, huh?" said the driver, in a decidedly American accent.

"That's right. And you're a Yank?"

"New York born and bred," the driver confirmed.

"You're even further from home than we are," Lucien observed.

"Yeah, just unlucky. Visiting my grandparents when the Japs invaded and couldn't get out."

""Unfortunate," Lucien agreed. "And now?"

"Now I'm trying to earn enough driving this cab to buy a ticket back to the States."

"You'd better hurry or you're going to be stuck here for good," Lucien advised. "Something tells me the Communists aren't going to make it any easier to leave than the Japanese did."

"I've been thinking about that, too," said the driver. "And that mob may have just convinced me." He shrugged. "How about some company on this trip of yours?"

"Why not, eh?" said Lucien with a grin. "Just get us out of here in one piece."

"You got it," said the driver. And he was as good as his word.

* * *

Jean was both thrilled and apprehensive at the thought of their homecoming. She had no doubt that she loved Lucien, and the idea of having a little girl here in the house pleased her no end. On the other hand, the intense circumstances under which she had known Lucien in the camps hardly compared to life in a large house in an Australian country town. Would they be compatible, sharing a home and living everyday lives? And how would Li adapt, especially to herself and the boys?

She tried to tamp down her doubts by staying busy. She could make the house welcoming for them. Doctor Blake had told her it would take more than a week for a ship to reach Australia from Shanghai, but Jean saw no reason to wait before making ready for their arrival. The day following the receipt of Lucien's telegraph there would only be a couple of surgery patients and they were scheduled for late in the afternoon so she spent the morning preparing bedrooms for the travelers. For Lucien it was just a matter of putting fresh linens on the bed, dusting the surfaces, and providing clean towels.

For Li, though, she wanted to do something special, something pretty. She remembered seeing a bureau scarf embroidered with tiny blue flowers in the attic, so she washed, starched and ironed it. As she arranged it on the top of the chest of drawers, she thought how once they got to know each other she would love to make some dresses for the little girl. She would have to see what kind of material Li liked. Wouldn't it be lovely if they could shop for it together?

Jean had been collecting bits and bobs to put together a sewing basket, and she thought the spool of soft pink ribbon she had purchased could be used to make the bedroom more feminine. She attached some of it to make borders on the plain white lampshade, and then, after Jack had assured her he was much too "old" to play with his teddy bear now, Jean cleaned up their old companion and tied a length of the pink ribbon at his neck before propping him up against the pillow on the bed. Stepping back to see the overall effect, she was pleased. Maybe she'd have a chance to go into town before they came and find a small doll. Every little girl needed at least one.

After lunch, she prepared a lamb stew for dinner and put it on to simmer for the afternoon. With that well underway, she thought she should have time to work in the sunroom for a while before readying the surgery. She could hear the boys in the front garden with their beloved football, which she knew would keep them occupied for at least another hour.

She was quite pleased with the way the sunroom was shaping up. The varieties she had planted so far were looking healthy, and she hoped that within another month or two she would have enough blooms to fill vases in the waiting room and in the foyer.

She was wondering if she should try her hand at begonias next when she heard the boys shout. Probably Jack trying to get away with something against the rules again, which never sat well with Christopher. When it didn't continue, she decided to ignore it, continuing with her repotting of geraniums that had outgrown their current homes.

When she first heard the singing, she thought Doctor Blake had turned on the wireless or the record player, which usually came on only in the evenings. She went to investigate, hoping it wasn't Jack touching the devices which he knew were off-limits. But as she reached the parlour she realized the music was coming from outside. Curious, she opened the front door and stepped out.

Her hand flew to her mouth. Walking up the drive was Lucien, looking tall and strong and so very happy, with his daughter sitting on his shoulders and her sons holding onto his hands as they all sang.

 _You're the top._

 _You're the Coliseum_

 _You're the top._

 _You're the Louvre Museum..._

The minute her eyes met his, Jean knew all her worries were in vain. She loved this man with every bit of her heart, and her love was reflected back to her in his beautiful blue eyes. They were going to be just fine. Together.

 _Author's Note: This was always going to be how the story ended, but now I know there has to be one more chapter. I haven't decided yet whether it will be an epilogue or the setup for a sequel._


	29. Chapter 29

_Author's Note: This chapter begins just before the last scene from the previous chapter. Enjoy!_

Lucien held Li's hand as they stepped off the platform at the Ballarat Railway Station. The little girl was trying to look everywhere at once. He smiled down at her encouragingly. He had always been proud of her curiosity.

"This is Ballarat?" she asked.

"Yes, my darling, this is Ballarat. This is where we'll be living now. What do you say we go see the house?"

"Your father's house?" asked Li.

He nodded. "My father's house. Your grandfather's house."

"And Mrs. Beazley?"

"Yes, and Mrs. Beazley and her boys."

"I remember their names," she said. "Christopher and Jack. Do you think they'll like me, Daddy?"

"I'm absolutely certain that they'll like you, as will Mrs. Beazley, and your grandfather."

She didn't look entirely convinced. Lucien hoped that getting them all introduced as soon as possible was the best way to allay her fears. He hailed a taxi which, in just a few minutes, deposited them at the foot of the drive.

When he looked up at the familiar house, he realized he'd been so busy trying to reassure Li that he'd been able to ignore his own apprehensions about seeing his father again. It was just as well, he thought. He and Li didn't really have anywhere else to go.

"Ready?" he asked Li as he hefted their bags over one shoulder. He noticed she still looked nervous, so he lifted her up over his head so she could sit on his shoulders.

"You used to let me ride like this when I was little," she remembered.

"I did," he told her, delighted that she was remembering more of their time together.

As he started up the drive, he heard a pair of shouts, and saw Christopher and Jack come hurtling at him.

"Doctor Blake!"

They threw their arms around him, and he hugged them back as best he could without dropping Li.

"Is this your little girl?" asked Jack, looking up.

"That's right. This is Li. Li, this scamp is Jack."

Jack grinned up at her. "Hi, Li."

"Hi, Jack," she said shyly.

"And this tall chap is Christopher."

"Hello, Li."

"Hi, Christopher."

Lucien smiled proudly. These three children were all very dear to his heart, and he very much wanted them to get along. So far, so good.

"Where's your mum?" he asked the boys.

"In the sunroom," Christopher told him.

"With all her plants that don't have flowers yet," Jack added, wrinkling his nose.

"With your mother's gardening talents I'm sure they'll all have flowers in no time," Lucien assured him. "Now, do you think you could help me out with something for her?"

Christopher nodded vigorously while Jack bounced up and down, saying, "What?"

"Will you help me sing a song to let her know we're here? I'd like to surprise her."

"She'll be surprised," Christopher assured him. "She thinks you're coming next week."

"Yes, well, nevertheless, I'd like to sing a song for her."

"Like when she sang for you?" asked Jack.

"Exactly," said Lucien. "Li and I have been practicing, haven't we?"

He could feel her nod, since her chin was resting on the top of his head.

"Now you only have to remember one line: 'You're the top'. All right? You take my hands, and every time I squeeze them, you say your line."

Both boys nodded, big smiles on their faces.

"Shall we practice it once, very quietly? All three of you now."

He squeezed his hands, and the three children all whispered it in unison. He laughed in delight. "Perfect! Now let's all move up toward the front door, and we'll sing it nice and loud. Everyone ready? Go!"

"You're the top!" the children called out.

"You're the Coliseum," he sang out, then squeezed their hands.

"You're the top!"

"You're the Louvre Museum."

And then Jean appeared, taking his breath away. He had thought her lovely in the camps, despite being underfed and in faded clothing, but now, with her hair and makeup neatly done, dressed in a silky blouse and well-fitted skirt, and best of all, looking healthy and happy, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Her hand went to her mouth as she stood there, staring at him in surprise.

He let go of the boys' hands and set Li on the ground before moving toward her.

"Lucien," she breathed, holding out her hands to him. He took them in his own and pulled her towards him. Mindful of the children looking on, he settled for a sedate kiss to her cheek, although everything he had wanted to embrace her tightly and kiss her passionately until they were both breathless.

"We thought, well," she began, her face lit with a brilliant smile.

"I know. I didn't want to spend one more day away from all of you, and frankly, I've had my fill of ships and their tiny cabins, so we came by plane."

She nodded, understanding completely. "You're here now. That's all that matters."

"Yes," he agreed. "And with the most precious of treasures." He held a hand out to Li. "Mrs. Beazley, may I introduce my daughter, Li. Li, this is my very dear friend, Mrs. Beazley."

"How do you do, Mrs. Beazley?" Li said politely holding out her hand.

Jean, with her motherly instinct, must have realized that a hug would not be unwelcome. She enveloped the little girl in her arms. "I am so happy to meet you, Li. So happy that you and your father have found one another again." She smiled at Lucien. "Now, why don't we all go inside? I'll show you to your room so you can get settled, and then maybe some milk and biscuits?"

Li looked to her father for approval. "That sounds lovely," he said. "Shall we?"

They were stepping onto the porch, with the boys talking to him a mile a minute, when Thomas appeared in the doorway, his mouth hanging open as he gazed at his son.

Lucien swallowed forcefully, the smile leaving his face as he stared back at his father. He couldn't prevent the rising apprehension that overtook him. So much depended on whether he and his father could put their differences behind them. Lucien refused to subject Li to a home filled with dissension, but if they moved out, what would that mean for Jean and her boys? He resolved to try his best to mend the relationship with his father. Surely they had both mellowed somewhat after all these years.

"Dad," he said politely, stepping forward in greeting.

Thomas paused only a minutes before pulling his son into a fierce hug. "Lucien, my boy, I am so pleased. So pleased."

"Me, too," Lucien said softly. "It's good to be home."

"This _is_ your home. For as long as you want it to be," Thomas told him. "Mrs. Beazley has made it a home again."

Both men turned to smile at Jean, who blushed.

Lucien saw that Li was holding Jean's hand, which reminded him. "Dad, this is your granddaughter, Li. Sweetheart, this is your grandfather."

The petite girl seemed a little daunted, even though Lucien had told her very little about his differences with his father, wanting to give them both a chance at a clean start.

"Hello, Grandfather," she said softly.

"Hello, Li. My what a lovely young lady you are," Thomas told her.

She looked to Lucien for guidance, and when he nodded to her, Li managed a shy smile. "Thank you for letting us stay in your house," she told Thomas.

"My absolute pleasure, my dear. I hope you'll feel at home here. Please, come inside, everyone."

And so it began. The Blake and Beazley families began to meld together. Six people who had known tragedy bonded together to face the future. There would be stumbles along the path, of course. Lucien and Thomas would need to confront their past history. Jack's headstrong ways would cause him troubles. Jean and Lucien's relationship would face the disapproval of Ballarat's small town mentality. Christopher would need to find his own way. And Li would experience bigotry and ignorance. But the strength and love that had seen them all through the war would see them through peacetime as well. They would be a family.

 _Author's Note: This is the end of "Prisoners" but the AU will continue, just not right away. Thank you to everyone who came along for the journey. The response has been far greater than I ever expected. A special thanks to all who took the time to comment. Please know that your reviews are very much appreciated. And watch this space for the sequel, tentatively called "Freedom"._


End file.
